Business
by Nightingrave
Summary: This is a Kyoya/OC story! Kyoya Ootori is engaged. To a commoner. When Isabella is forced to spend some time in her fiance's school to get closer to him, she meets a gang of goofball boys called the Host Club... plus one girl? But what if neither her nor Kyoya WANT to marry each other! What is she going do!
1. Chapter 1

A/N – Hullo there. The message that used to be here was for Wattpad because I post there too and I couldn't be bothered with the whole introduction thing here. It basically points out that my OC has severe social anxiety which causes a stutter and slight slurring of her words. It's nothing too major. She's also a very quiet girl but I refused to constantly say "she whispered" or "she said quietly"

 **Chapter 1 –** **Wealthy is Only a Status for Those Who Have to Get Married**

* * *

Pressure slowly built up in my chest under the intense glares. I could already feel the disbelief radiating off the boys like extra strong cologne and I swiftly shuffled further away – not that I wasn't already standing on the far side of the room.

I gulped down saliva that I hadn't realised was building up in my mouth and I averted my stare to random objects situated around the room. Tables and chairs set up in an orderly fashion about the room simply longed for contact, the plain tablecloths, empty plates, cutlery, and napkins somehow looking lonely and abandoned.

Off to one side – I hadn't glanced over for long enough to get a decent look – was a large double door that led off to another room and beside that was a couch that looked identical to the one the posing boys were seated upon.

All around the room were tall, beautifully cared for pot plants and other little decorations to make the unnecessarily large room a comelier place. Although, despite the efforts made, it couldn't have been any less uncomfortable for me.

When my mother had insisted that I visit my fiancé's place of education, I had expected something much less criticising of my status. My public high school junior uniform seemed like rags compared to the lavish satin cushions and neatly stitched uniforms (although, the girls' banana-coloured dress wasn't something I particularly drooled over).

My fingertips, out of nervous habit, were clenched tightly between my teeth, my just recently manicured nails snapping off with a noisy crack.

"I thought I told you to stop biting your nails," demanded a smooth voice in my ear. I jumped, startled at the sudden appearance of my fiancé behind me, and gripped my wrist with my other hand, forcing it away from my mouth.

"Good girl," he gently whispered, although I could tell that he didn't care either way if I made him look good.

One of the others started to approach, the thuds of their polished shoes on the gleaming tiled floor growing louder as they neared. Something was said but I neither cared nor paid it any attention, my focus was solely on controlling my slightly heavy breathing.

A shadow towered over me, making me feel so infinitesimal in comparison. I shrank myself even smaller, hunching my shoulders and hugging my arms close to my stomach. It was at this moment I wish I could become invisible – it was all too much to cope with.

"Kyoya…" I managed to choke out in a soft whisper, alerting my fiancé of my struggle and his arm, albeit without kindness, draped itself over my shoulders and tugged me back into his chest.

Looking up at the tall shadow, I saw light blond hair arranged beautifully on his head.

"So, you're the Shadow King's fiancé." His voice was naturally charming and his bright eyes a deep shade of purple. He had a wide smirk that reached his ears – it almost literally screamed: "My ego is through the atmosphere."

Kyoya's grip dropped from my shoulder. "Why must you insist on calling me the Shadow King?" he growled, visibly striking a cord in Tamaki, whose cheerful mood was instantly replaced with pitiful sadness.

A hand kindly gripped my chin and my stomach flipped inside out, those long fingers coaxing me to stare into the eyes of the tall stranger, rather than my own reflection on the floor; seriously, they polished that floor way too much.

My weight felt suddenly immense and my knees, turned in awkwardly like a young child waiting urgently to use the toilet, began to shake, on the verge of collapsing under me. There was a loud pounding of a hammer knocking on wood and it took me a moment that it was my own heartbeat, deafening the sounds of reality around me.

As breathing became difficult – in short, quick gasps but never seeming to reach my desperate lungs. My face, surely, was beginning to turn purple (or at least it felt that way) and a loud voice, whom I recognised as Kyoya's, shouted, "Enough!"

"You know, we never thought Kyoya would fall for a commoner," piped up two identical sounding voices after I managed to calm down. I glanced over – back at the couch behind Tamaki, who still stood in front of me – and noticed a pair of mischievous looking ginger boys, standing back to back in a symmetrical stance with their arms crossed.

And holy Moses, they were attractive.

"For your information," exclaimed a now grumpy Kyoya, who quickly scooped me up in his arms (I may or may not have screeched loudly) and carried me away to the nearest couch. "I haven't "fallen" for anyone. Our engagement is simply a business transaction that benefits both of our families."

He set me down on the couch, despite my being perfectly capable of doing so myself, and pushed me back until my head was resting on a pillow and my legs were stretched out across the couch.

"Rest," he muttered to me, his mood suddenly changing as fast as Tamaki's had before. Or perhaps it's a façade, I had thought to myself, and that's the decision I stuck with when I saw his eyebrows knit into an obvious frown when he stood to glare at the others again.

Shifting uncomfortably, I turned over to my side, ignoring the awkward pain of my hip digging into the cushions. I glanced up at Kyoya and saw him staring at me with what I hoped for a moment was concern but, as always, his pale face displayed no emotion; he just had his ridiculous version of a smile that resembled a smirk playing about his lips.

A deep heat (of embarrassment, of course) rose to my cheeks and I turned away, squishing my face into a heavily beaded decorative pillow.

"She's so cute!" squealed an overly enthusiastic voice – one I had not heard yet. I momentarily glanced to the side again and saw a tiny little kid peering at me, his wide doe eyes sparkling, and I soon shoved my face back into the pillow, praying for any kind of escape.

"Kyo-chan! I think she doesn't like me!" I couldn't help the little grin that pulled at my lips – that little kid's pet name for Kyoya was too adorable for words.

I sat up slowly, cheeks still red and a smile still on my face, the latter disappearing when a long growl emitted loudly from my stomach. I had barely eaten anything that day and not to mention the amazing smell of delectable pastries and cakes wafting in from the room's personal kitchen was enough to make anyone's mouth water.

"Someone's hungry," sang one of the twins, the one with his fringe swept more to the left. He leant over the back of the couch, poking my stomach with a weirdly intrigued look on his face. I let out a short shout and scrambled as far along the couch as I could, sharply dragging my knees to my chest once my back hit the arm.

"Please, don't touch me," I murmured.

I tugged at the hem of my navy blue pleated skirt as though it were the most interesting thing to look at, albeit my uniform looking so bland next to even the spot of dirt of the little kid's shoes.

Suddenly, a small china plate was shoved in my face, a huge slice of neatly decorated cake sitting on top of it. It was chocolate but in between layers there was a creamy substance with little blue chunks in it, there was also half a strawberry and white chocolate shavings sitting on the icing.

My jaw dropped as I took the plate in my hands and my eyes widened to the size of small dinner plates. It was a magnificent looking slice!

"What a pretty cake!" I exclaimed louder than I usually would. Picking up my fork and stabbing it into the cake, I started slowly shovelling it down piece by piece, almost moaning pleasurably at the amazing flavour, each bite even better than the last.

I felt the couch cushions sink down a little more and I turned to see Kyoya seated beside me, his legs crossed and his fingers pushing his rounded glasses up his nose. I smiled a little again. His quirky habits always made me happy, it was kind of cute.

"Hey, Kyoya-Senpai, who's this?"

My attention was drawn to the door, where a short figure stood with a paper bag filled with shopping. I raised an eyebrow, noticing large, round eyes and a very feminine stance, although the stranger was obviously a girl.

"Kyoya? Why is that girl wearing a boy's uniform?"

I could see visible sweat drops on everyone around me other than Kyoya, of course, who simply smirked at me from his place and pushed his glasses up again. "I always knew you were a smart girl," he praised confidently, although it somehow sounded more like a threat than a compliment.

"Haruhi, this is Isabella-Grace. Isabella, this is Haruhi." The introduction was brisk and short but, fortunately, exactly how I preferred it. I sent a grateful smile in his direction and he reciprocated with his signature little smirk.

The short-haired girl grinned at me with her head tilted and eyes closed – it would've looked adorably attractive had I not realised that she was really a boy. Anyway, it wasn't as though it was hard to notice; anyone who didn't notice must've been blind or just super thick.

Just as Haruhi opened her mouth to speak, a loud bell sounded and Tamaki clapped his hands together twice, shouting out random orders that made little to no sense to me but obviously did for the other boys (plus Haruhi), who all dashed about the room.

It was amusing to watch as they each scrambled around, throwing off one shirt while trying to simultaneously tug on another, more decorative outfit. Even Kyoya, who, at best, seemed rather stoic and respectable more than anything, was hurriedly changing his clothes.

When finally finished, they all gathered around a glamorous throne with velvet cushioning and a gold frame. Tamaki, dressed like a gloriously rich King, sat himself down on the throne, crossing one leg over the other and, with his elbow propped up on the arm of the throne, leant against his fisted hand. Surrounding him was the others, also dressed up in medieval cosplays.

The large double doors soon opened, figures of bright yellow pouring in and momentarily blinding me – yellow truly was a monstrosity of a colour – but I soon realised that it was only female students from the school. I pulled my knees up close and stuffed a pillow between them and my chest, hugging it tight and shyly peering over the top.

Dispersing from their places, each boy began a random activity with a flock of girls beside them. Occasional squeals and high-pitched exclamations reached my ears while I watched, intrigued as Tamaki repeated cliché lines over and over to separate girls, who ironically worshipped him for the King he acted to be.

"Having a good time?" asked the familiar, uninterested voice of Kyoya, who had approached, completely unbeknown to me, and once again sat on the other side of the couch.

I gave a slight nod before turning back to the show before me, all the colour suddenly draining from my face and my jaw dropping when a horrifying sight caught my eye. The twins, standing together off to one side of the room, were embracing in a highly incestuous way, their lips mere centimetres from touching.

"W-what the hell are they doing!"

Kyoya was unfazed, simply pushing his glasses up as he usually did. "That's Hikaru and Kaoru Hitachiin. They appeal to our guests through acts of taboo or, if you prefer, forbidden brother love – it never gets to a point of actual incest – and, as they say, "Who hasn't fantasised over twins; having two lovers is always better than one.""

I had been too busy staring at the freaky twins to notice the accusing smirk on Kyoya's face but it soon came to light when he moved ever so slightly closer and mischievously asked, "So, Isabella-Grace, have _you_ ever had dirty thoughts about twins?"

"What?! No!" I practically shrieked before quickly slapping my hands over my mouth, shocked that I could even shout so loud, especially in such a crowded place. I buried my face in my pillow for the second time today, feeling my cheeks burn bright red.

"I'm only kidding," he joked heartlessly, chuckling as he did.

I looked over at him again, curious. "What do you even do here? And how come you don't have any girls chasing after you, Kyoya?"

It seemed that he was awaiting the question and he soon answered without hesitation. "This is Ouran Academy's Host Club," he began, gesturing a little dramatically (for him at least) towards the others. "We entertain young ladies with our specific personality traits – the twins being the mischievous type, for example."

Shuffling to completely face him, I allowed his voice to drown out the irritating screams of the girls around me. "And… some of them actually like the whole incest thing?"

He nodded, "Our club basically works as turning fanfiction into reality as well as incestuous acts being favoured among many anonymous users of fanfiction sites."

I couldn't decide whether to ask how he knew it or if I should just ignore it and I decided to stick with the latter. Kyoya tends to have some sort of basic knowledge on almost everything – at least I thought he did, he had yet to let me peek inside the black notebook he carries.

"And? What about you?"

"Ah, right. Well, as I said, we all have our types and mine is the cool type." I could understand the logic in that and I hummed, encouraging him to continue.

"However, most girls," he murmured, leaning forward with his arm acting as support, "prefer my body over my personality." He tilted my chin up with his fingertips, bringing our lips closer together and somewhat forcing me to stare into his half-lidded eyes.

I instantly shoved him away, my embarrassment showing yet again. "What d-do you think you're doing?!"

Kyoya only smirked again. "I was curious as to what your reaction would be. Thanks for the data!" he stated bluntly and with a strange grin, making me feel like a pathetic guinea pig as he started scratching notes into his notebook with furious speed.

"Who are they?" I pointed to the small kid and his huge follower, who easily towered over the other.

Following my gaze, Kyoya said, "The tall one is Takashi Morinozuka and the smaller one is Mitsukuni Haninozuka. Both are third-year students."

My jaw dropped yet again. "That kid's in his third year?" I whispered in surprise, unable to take my eyes away from the elementary-looking kid cuddling up to a big pink bunny. Kyoya made a simple grunt of confirmation, spiralling both of us into awkward silence.

"The cosplays are nice," I said slowly, more to myself than Kyoya.

"We do have a personal designer but I feel that it's rather frivolous to spend such expenses when I can name a few… _aspiring_ students who'd do it for free." I could sense his difficulty in choosing a word and I had a strong feeling that he wanted to say "amateur."

"Money?" I asked out of pure curiosity, internally cursing my stutter. I had originally tried to question "expenses," but each time I started to say the word, something caught in my throat and dragged it down off my tongue.

"Yes, we often have- why are you crying?"

I could feel the tears brimming in the corners of my eyes. It always felt so horrible; the dreadful feel of someone cutting out my vocal chords and disabling my speech. "I'm sorry," I stuttered quietly, my voice breaking just the slightest bit.

He, obviously reluctantly, shifted closer to me and picked up my hand, holding it in both of his own. "Hey, don't let me see those tears, okay? Your speech impediment can't be helped – never apologise for something out of your control. If you're my future wife, I can't have you crying. Now, come on, I want to see that smile my sister adores so much."

My lips twitched up into a small smile, Kyoya smirking at me in return and dropping my hand. "Happy, now?" he asked, his voice not revealing any hint of concern.

Glancing over, I first noticed that all the guests had disappeared and, if I squinted, I could see that the clock on the tall tower outside the window red five-thirty. Kyoya and I had been together here for at least two hours!

Secondly, I saw that all six of the other Hosts had been staring at us, each of them changed back into their uniforms and each with a different look on their face; Haruhi was confused, Tamaki seemed to be fuming for some reason, the twins were grinning evilly, Takashi was indifferent to his usual blank look, and Mitsukuni looked like he had just seen the world's cutest puppy.

Clearing his throat, Kyoya said, "If you don't mind, everyone, Isabella and I must be heading home. My father won't appreciate us being late for dinner. Also, I'm exhausted – I want to get some sleep in before dinner." Kyoya linked his arm with mine and helped me up from the couch.

"If you'll excuse us," he finished, nodding respectively to each of the Hosts in turn; first Tamaki and Haruhi, then Takashi and Mitsukuni, then finally Hikaru and Kaoru.

* * *

As soon as we had arrived at Kyoya's estate, he wasted no time in dragging me up to his room where we usually spent our time, away from his family and servants. I sat on the edge of the bed, kicking my feet rhythmically.

Clothes, including my own, were strewn about the place and I knew Fuyumi, Kyoya's older and only sister, had been messing around in his drawers again. I couldn't resist a smile – Fuyumi always meant well but her folding and organising skills were… lacking.

In the peripheral vision, where the window met the wall, I could see Kyoya slowly but surely shrugging off his shirt, allowing it to fall to his elbows and show off his smooth, unmarked back. I blushed and instantly averted my gaze and thoughts, staring absentmindedly at a tall plant near the door.

"You know, I don't care if you watch me undress. You're bound to see it later when we get married."

I nearly let out an inhuman screech at his comment and flew back on the bed, covering my eyes and burning cheeks with my hands. My legs pulled up close to my body and I remained in a foetal position, begging my brain to never think of Kyoya in such a way.

"It's inevitable, Isabella, you know it is. Part of our arrangement is also that you give birth to my children."

"So… I'm essentially paying you back… with my body?"

He leapt onto the bed and I felt him crawl over me. "Yes," he whispered in my ear, nothing but seriousness in that evil tone of his, and I could feel my body shaking underneath him.

"D-damn you, Kyoya Ootori! And don't call me Isabella! You know what I prefer," I huffed, pitifully sticking out my lower lip in a pout. I always felt so infinitesimal near Kyoya, both physically and mentally; him being so much taller and cleverer than I.

He laughed and I felt him reach over to push my hands away from my face. I sat up in the middle of the bed, folding my legs and leaning back on my hands as I stared up at the roof, refusing to even catch a glimpse at my still shirtless fiancé.

The silence was long and awkward with not even a cricket daring to chirp. Little beads of sweat formed on my forehead, which I knew wasn't because of the heat, and I started wriggling my toes as a momentary distraction.

It wasn't much long after that when I heard a soft snore – I guess it was more like a heavy sigh – and I whipped around to see Kyoya had fallen asleep sitting up, his shoulders slumped and head hanging low. I got up on my knees and shuffled over, hesitantly placing one hand on his back and the other on his chest, pushing and supporting him whilst I lowered him down.

When I had managed to succeed in laying down Kyoya, also, somehow, picking up his legs and dropping them down on the huge mattress, I lifted and stuffed a small pillow under his head. After I had done that, I picked up a folded blanket from the end of the bed, spreading it over the sleeping boy.

"He looks so peaceful," I noted aloud to myself, carefully pinching his glasses and tugging them off before setting them down on the bedside table.

Minutes passed, those minutes soon turning into hours, and I still sat by Kyoya on the bed, staring down at a game on the phone he had given me. I would've considered it a gift, if he hadn't ever so bluntly stated, "I expect to be made of your whereabouts as often as you can," when he gave it to me.

If that didn't sound like stalking, then I don't know what it was.

There was a soft knock on the wall and I jumped, close to screaming when I saw one of the maids standing just by the entrance with a bashful look on her face. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, Master Kyoya and Mistress Isabella. Master Ootori requests your presence in the dining hall."

"It's fine," answered Kyoya sleepily, sitting up beside me with squinting eyes and a hand in his fringe, resting against his forehead. "Tell my father we'll be there in a minute."

The maid hastily left, embarrassed out of her mind, although still not as much as me. I stared, red in the face, as Kyoya slipped on and buttoned up his school dress shirt. "Where are my glasses?" he asked, his words slurring together uncharacteristically.

"Bedside table," I whispered, playing with my fingers and fidgeting awkwardly. I watched while he reached over, fumbling for his glasses for a minute until he managed to pinpoint them. "You're really blind without your glasses, huh?"

"Shut up." He shrugged on a simple designer jacket and helped me up off the bed, leading me gracefully out of his room and to the dining hall, my stomach clenching tighter and tighter with each passing second.

Dinner couldn't have been more uncomfortable. When Kyoya and I had arrived in the hall, we could both tell that his father was in a grumpy mood, although it never looked much different from when he happy (which was almost never, to be completely honest).

Although I had been here in the manor many times, the vast rooms always managed to astonish me. Despite each room only holding a limited number of items, the modern design gave it a homely warmth and made it feel like home – that's what I would like to have thought.

Yes, maybe to some, the huge mansion seemed welcoming and beautiful but everything was so black and white – so monochrome. There was no burst of vibrant colours other than those trapped in the magnificent paintings hanging on the walls, never reaching past the glass.

Skimming my vision across the room, I counted four tall, lonely plants that stood in each corner, none of them donning any flowers or fruit. Just up the staircase, I could see a wide-open door, leading into what I assumed was some sort of office.

My feet, unable to touch the floor under the table, swung back and forth as I clasped and unclasped my hands in my lap. I stared absentmindedly at the wall, allowing my thoughts to take over and run their course.

"Isabella, how did you like Ouran Academy today?" asked one of Kyoya's older brothers, Yuuichi if I remembered correctly, bringing me out of my trance.

I gulped and flashed him a thumbs-up, forcing a smile on my face. I shook my head when he playfully asked if I still wasn't going to talk to him. Intense glares from Ootori-Sama pierced my skin like thousands of needles and I knew it was because of my refusal to speak.

It was like _he_ was in denial over my condition.

"Good," he stated grouchily. "Because your mother and I have enrolled you there." I nearly spit out the wine I sipped – why is it that I always did things at the exact wrong moment? Kyoya looked just as shocked as I, his grey eyes wide and continuously flicking from me to his father.

"Are you sure that is wise, father?" piped up my fiancé. "Her condition will-"

"Enough, Kyoya!" I froze, my stomach doing somersaults, threatening to throw everything up and out of my mouth. "You will _not_ question my judgement! Or are you a bad son?"

Kyoya looked down. "No, Sir." Above the table, I noticed Kyoya's grasp on his spoon tighten drastically, causing it to bend and almost snap in half. I could sense that was mad at himself and I saw, underneath hi dark fringe, that his eyes were clenched shut behind his glasses.

Ootori-Sama seemed pleased. "Then Isabella will attend Ouran Academy from tomorrow under an art scholarship. There'll be no need to purchase a uniform."

I just about scoffed. _No need for a uniform, my ass. You just don't want to spend your money on a "commoner."_ His smirk, much more malicious than Kyoya's, made me even more anxious than the situation itself. There was an evil, money-hungry glint in the eyes that looked just like his sons', and I squirmed in my seat at the sight of it.

Fear corrupted my mind day after day; fear that Kyoya would become as sadistic and corrupted as his successful father, with the company or without.

"I had no clue you were skilled in the arts, Isabella," stated Kyoya briskly, attempting to avoid the previous subject and start anew. I shrugged my shoulders, unable to look him in the eye, and heard him huff in defeat. "You should share more with me, you know, especially if we're to be wed."

I only nodded in response.

Akito, Kyoya's other older brother, scraped the final piece of his dessert off the plate and soon after excused himself, Yuuichi in tow. That just left Kyoya and me alone with his father. If things hadn't been unpleasant before, they certainly were now – Kyoya was twirling his broken spoon between his fingers under the table, Ootori-Sama was glaring at anything and everything, and I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

All things aside, the night was just like any other.

Only a few hours after dinner, however, late into the night, a still moody Kyoya offered to take me home. As the limo drove down the dark, empty streets, I stared out the tinted window in a thoughtless daze.

I heard him clear his throat and I turned to him, still very much awake despite the late hour. He held out a glass containing a shiny golden substance – wine – which I gladly accepted without a moment's hesitation, downing the entire thing in seconds.

There was a slightly bitter taste to it and I realised that it wasn't diluted with water as it usually would be. I raised an eyebrow in suspicion but Kyoya paid no attention to it, calmly sipping his undiluted wine as though he'd done it a million times before.

Glancing down at my watch, I saw that we should have arrived at my house a while ago. "Kyoya, where are we going?" I questioned nervously, fearing his answer. I knew it was stupid of me but I couldn't help thinking that he was a psychopath taking me to my grave.

"Your house."

I frowned, "That can't be right. My watch says so!"

He leant over and tapped on the plastic screen of my cheap watch, smirking a little when the smallest hand moved. "Your watch is broken, Isabella."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N – When Grammarly is desperate for you to buy premium. 101 advanced issues, my ass. This is perfectly fine, lmao. Just let me proud of my work. Fuck you, Grammarly. I've also been binge-watching the anime, live, and movie versions like a madman and I have so many new ideas for this fic. I can't wait to write them for you! I've been reading the manga too!

 **Chapter 2 -** **Carrying a Sketchbook Everywhere Can Only Lead to Disaster**

* * *

I wished that I could've been able to pass unnoticed or, preferably, completely invisible to everyone around. Even slinking close to the walls of the hallways did me no justice – it didn't eradicate my presence as I'd hoped it would.

All eyes were, unfortunately, glued on me. I suppose it was inevitable considering how the black of my faded, ripped overalls stood out like a sore thumb against the vibrant pink of the building walls. Not to mention the blue and yellow uniforms donned by the wealthy students around me.

Even my old public high school uniform would've worked out better than this but I wasn't sure if I'd be allowed to wear it, especially since I had been transferred (against my will) to Ouran Academy.

As I walked, I held my school supplies close to my chest and each time a student dared to walk close to me, earning gasps I strengthened my hold on them – my precious sketchbook and pencils. I liked to think they were worth the number of meals I had to cut down on, but most of the time I just wanted to rip out the pages and burn them until they became something less than ashes.

"I should've known not to wear this today," I muttered to myself, staring uncomfortably down at my feet as not-so-quiet whispers from all around reached my ears. I could feel my hands grip my map of the school tighter and I had to constantly think to myself, _just a few more steps._

Reaching my classroom couldn't have brought more of a relief but, when I hurriedly slammed the door shut and leant my back against it, breathing heavily, I soon noticed the small crowd of students surrounding one desk who had all turned to stare at me.

"S-sorry," I squeaked, quickly sprinting to the back of the classroom and sitting myself down at the first empty table I could find, praying that I wouldn't be sitting next to anyone. The disappointment came soon, however, when a school satchel was dumped unceremoniously onto the table space beside me and the other chair was dragged out along the floor.

Refusing to look at them, I stayed where I was, nervously opening my sketchbook with shaking hands and almost furiously tapping my pencil on the page over and over, watching as the small marks appeared and began to grow bigger until there was a large group of dots.

I started connecting them together, with no obvious start point, end, or any proper direction to draw; the freedom of it made me feel content and a little happy. The little lines soon turned into random scribbles, like the pencil was whisking my hand in whatever direction it deemed okay.

"I don't know about you but something like that doesn't look like the work of an art scholar," stated a smooth, highly familiar voice from beside me, making me jolt with a start and drop my pencil.

"Well, maybe you just don't have an eye for art, Ootori-San." I clapped a hand over my mouth. How could I respond in such a way to someone – let alone to my future _husband?!_ Even if I didn't necessarily _want_ to marry such a pompous ass, it wasn't like I could afford to get on his bad side.

 _You're such an idiot, Isabella!_ I could practically hear my family mocking me and I moved my hands to cover my ears, even though they were haunting my mind. _No wonder why Kyoya's been_ forced _to marry you._ What cliché voices…

A deep chuckling from beside me dragged me away from my thoughts and I slowly lowered my hands, turning to Kyoya with a surprised blush on my cheeks, my eyes wide and my mouth opened slightly in shock. He was… laughing? Although, it wasn't a particularly nice laugh, more like a forced chuckle.

Kyoya reached into his satchel and whipped out his notebook, jotting down stuff I couldn't see. He looked at me with that creepy look on his face – the one with an unnaturally wide grin and close eyes. "You don't seem to know me very well, do you? I know art when I see it, of course. We're in art class right now."

I could have facepalmed; how humiliating. It was so stupid of me to say it and I should've just kept my mouth shut.

"Right, I knew that," I retorted quietly, allowing a small, genuine smile to show for the first time that day. Kyoya, despite torturing me with embarrassment and nervousness to no end, always knew how to take it like a joke… I think. I guess I could appreciate _that_ side of him.

Kyoya always confused me. I could never tell what he was thinking – his poker face game was just too strong for me to handle. Those cold, dark eyes never showed any colour or remorse, just like a plain black frame but, this I wasn't so sure of, I usually tried to console myself with the beautifully vibrant painting that _must_ be lying underneath the cool glass.

"Just so we're clear, Ayakushi-San, I'm not particularly fond of you." His bluntness slapped me harsh across the face and I could've flown back and smashed through the wall had I been in an anime or manga – even the use of my last name snapped something within me.

My hand closed into a tight fist beneath the desk and I could feel the sharp sting of my short nails digging into the skin of my palm; it made me feel grateful that they weren't long enough to penetrate the skin, but that didn't make me feel less anger towards Kyoya. But I didn't have the strength to try and insult him again.

"It's not like I want to marry you," I answered awkwardly, wishing I had the same hardness within me as before when I had so crudely called him out, even if it made no difference and still turned back on me.

"Well, good. At least we're on the same page here."

When Kyoya turned to face the front, I did the same, my heartbeat elevating suddenly the moment I saw the thirty-odd people roaming about the class. I lightly clenched my fists over and over, feeling sweat beginning to form on my forehead and palms. Great.

"You're going to have to deal with people being around, Ayakushi-san. You won't be able to do anything if you just sit there like you've seen a ghost."

I glared at him in disbelief. He really was turning into his father – someone who only cared about money, making themselves look good, and having a perfect trophy wife… which was something I could never be.

I ended up trying to distract myself until the bell rang, counting the desks, windows, and anything else I could see. There were about eighteen girls, not including me, and twelve boys, all of them clustered about the unnecessarily large room in little groups of three or four. That's a lot of people.

When the teacher strolled in the class, she had this glassy look in her eyes and I could almost see the hearts floating around her head. I was curious until I saw an easily recognisable blond following her, his "I just flirted with someone" smile lighting up his entire face. I should've known Tamaki would dare to flirt with teachers as well as students.

I shrunk down in my seat, ignoring the discomfort until only the top of my head down to my eyes was visible. Of course, the first thing he noticed was me attempting to hide at the back of the room and he wasted no time in calling out my name, practically shoving past all the girls fawning over him to get to my table. Why couldn't I just stay home today?

"Hey, Isabella, you transferred here? I'm so happy you could join us here, Princess!"

I tugged at the strap of my overalls out of habit, begging God to whisk me away from here. If I wanted to talk to Tamaki, I would've spoken up or, at the very least, acknowledged him in some way. I don't understand how he couldn't get that through his head.

"Hang on, what's that you're wearing? A lovely princess like you shouldn't be wearing such dark colours!" I rolled my eyes – his "princess" thing was really starting to annoy me. My irritation itched at me and I wanted to speak up to interrupt the bumbling fool, but there was this horrid lump in my throat preventing me from reaching my voice.

By now, I could see many people in the class staring, most them being drooling girls (thank God, their focus was on Tamaki) but there was the occasional student who, surprisingly, shot sharp scowls at me. What did I do? I haven't even been here for a whole day yet!

The teacher thankfully stopped Tamaki's rambling soon after and demanded everyone sits in their respective places, some of the girls looking as though they were about to fight tooth and nail for the seat next to the Host Club's "King."

This was going to be a very, _very_ long day.

For the entirety of the lesson, which started off embarrassing when the teacher called out my name, insisting on a brief introduction to my classmates, I was terrified. I had been trembling so violently to the core that I had unknowingly answered her in sign language – it greatly befuddled my poor teacher and classmates, but Kyoya was certainly more than gruntled.

I could see him beside me, his head lowered and a hand pressing hard against his mouth to stifle an immature laugh, rendering me immobile. Once again, he was laughing at me. My fist clenched for the third time, itching to get a feel of his face against my knuckles, but I swallowed my anger and sat back down.

That had only been the first incident and it was still only first period.

I had been fully immersed in my sketching – the teacher, after the chaos eventually settled, instructed that we draw whatever was on our minds. So much for being high school students; I was under the impression that only children were told to draw whatever they wanted in class.

Laughter almost escaped me. These people were nothing but rich pawns for their parents' companies… especially Kyoya. I momentarily turned my attention to him and saw his usually chocolate eyes shining silver like the metal plates of a robot – the familiar sight made me want to feel sorry for him. The intentionality of his coldness escaped me and left me asking unanswered questions. Sure, Kyoya was seemingly cold-hearted, but my own selfishness always brought me to the same thought. There must be _something_ behind those walls his father built.

"Time's up," stated the teacher and I jumped, having become used to the golden silence, and I noticed Kyoya's eyes narrow slightly as he hesitantly set down his pencil. "Ootori-san, please, show us your work."

Kyoya looked beyond mad at the involuntary selection, but he simply smiled a false smile and held up his unfinished masterpiece of a lavender chrysanthemum bouquet laying alone and cold in a beautiful winter garden. If it weren't for the lack of colour and obvious pencil marks, I would have mistaken it for a photograph.

My eyes widened – not at the beauty of his art, but the message it seemed to tell. Is this how Kyoya feels? Like lonely, wrapped up flowers trapped in a vast world of white? I felt like I was on the verge of crying – it truly was magnificent – but then something else caught my attention. All around us, I could hear girl swoon while each cried out something along the lines of "Kyoya's emotions are so cool!" and it made me reconsider my own opinion, a vein popping in my neck as I did. That stupid Host Club and their stupid charms.

With a smirk clearly directed at me, Kyoya sat back down, and the teacher called upon me for the second time today to also show my own work. I gulped. When she impatiently demanded yet again, I reluctantly stood from my seat, wincing at the short screech of the wooden chair legs on the floor, and picked up my sketchbook.

The reaction was not what I expected. The moment my drawing was in full view of everyone, simultaneous gasps of surprise and fear chorused from my classmates. Was it really that bad? With my heart hammering violently in my chest, I slowly peered over the top of the sketchbook, eyeing my own work upside down.

My jaw dropped.

Scratched almost brutally onto the page was what appeared to be a tortured, weak-in-the-knees young girl that lacked a smile and any sense of happiness. She was being held up on her toes by an identical girl, although _she_ had a sinister wind whipping at her hair and long claws protruding from her hands, one wrapped tight around the first girl's arm and the other held out to the side. Blood coated the second girl's fingers and it was then that I realised that the first girl's throat had a gaping hole in it, a gruesome amount of blood dripping down onto her ragged dress and body.

Fear rippled within me and coursed through my veins, freezing my blood and halting my breathing. The second girl had a gas-like orb floating above her hand and I knew that it was the first girl's voice.

"How… expressive," stated the teacher in a nervous voice. I watched as she pulled out a handkerchief to wipe away the sweat on her forehead and I caught the eyes of Tamaki, who was surprisingly speechless.

The so called "King" of the Host Club thankfully recognised my distress and he started laughing. "W-what a crazy joke, Isabella-san! Those pesky Hitachiin brothers must have put you up to this!"

One by one the others in the class started to relax, some of the boys even approaching to exclaim that it was "So awesome!" and I could breathe again. It was only my first day and I already managed to terrify myself and my classmates, render _Tamaki_ speechless, and almost give my teacher a heart attack.

Wonderful.

* * *

When the final bell for the day rang out, echoing down the pink halls of the academy, I couldn't have been more relieved. I walked down the hall alone, which was fine with me, but word had somehow got out about my drawing – multiple people were asking to see it and they all said the same thing: "Wow, it really is amazing! You're a great artist, Ayakushi-san!" Although most people still kept their distance, the way I preferred it, at least there weren't too many people dragging me into the fire.

Social interaction… what a horrible thing.

Suddenly, I was pushed backwards by a brute force and my eyes squeezed shut as I fell to the floor, my head crashing on the gleaming tiles and sending a shooting pain through my body. I cried out, dropping my things and bringing my hands to my head.

"Sorry, Ayakushi-Senpai," said a calm, familiar voice. I opened my eyes, blinking over and over to adjust to the bright lights overhead and the nauseating dizziness that overcame me. Pressing up against my body was that cross-dressing girl – her name escaped my mind – and as she stood up she offered her hand out to me, but I quickly and harshly declined.

I was certain I had offended her and was about to bow over and over like an idiot while simultaneously attempting to work up the courage to even speak an apology, but she only smiled kindly at me, astonishing me.

"I'm sorry we never got to meet properly yesterday. I'm Haruhi Fujioka, one of the first years in class One-A." Once again, she held out her hand for me to shake, but my body refused to move an inch. For a quick moment, I swore I could see what looked to be a flash of sadness in her large, doe-like eyes, but it vanished as quickly as I thought it had appeared.

Her hand withdrew and I simply stared at it, the deliberate clearing of Haruhi's throat dragging back to attention. "Sorry," I laughed nervously, crouching down to gather the things I had dropped. Unfortunately, my sketchbook had flung open to an old, beaten up page.

"Whoa… you're really good," Haruhi said, astonished. She and I were both staring down at the page, although I assumed that while I was visibly grimacing at the large tea stain, she must have been looking at the drawing. It wasn't anything special – just the outline of a girl wearing an Alice in Wonderland themed dress.

"You know, Kyoya-Senpai's been sulking over costs spent on the Host Club designer a lot lately. Maybe you could join the Host Club and design for us!" Before I could object to her obscene offer, she gripped my arm and briskly started walking in the opposite direction of the exit, dragging me along with her.

What did I do to get in this mess?

The entire way to the third floor, Haruhi babbled on about finally having another sane girl to make up for the sausage fest. I managed to drone out her one-sided conversation until something else she said caught my attention. "I mean, you don't talk a lot for some reason, but neither does Mori-Senpai. He's just not as shy as you… I'm sure that when you get used to us, you can talk to us more – we're an odd bunch, but you can talk to us about anything!"

By now we had reached the massive double doors that would inevitably lead to a fate worse than death: working for a Host Club. I tried to gulp down my fear. The chatter from the other side was loud, seeping through the cracks like poison, and I tried to gulp down my fear.

The door swung forth I was instantly blinded by the brightest light I had ever seen and ambushed by a few dozen silky rose petals. Silence echoed as the Host Club and their customers were revealed, everyone staring in either curiosity or annoyance at us. When some saw Haruhi, their expressions brightened, their eyes sparkled almost literally, and they ran over to greet her (obviously, they thought she was a boy).

"Care to explain why you're late, Haruhi?" came a merciless, icy voice before Kyoya stepped out of the shadows, an evil glare reflecting off his glasses – it was as though he knew when we were going to arrive and where exactly to stand.

I froze at the sight of his spiteful grin, wishing with all my might that I would suddenly obtain the power to evaporate into thin air, and although it seemed impossible, I was sure it would happen when I heard Haruhi _laughing_ at his comment.

My head turned to her slowly, like a malfunctioning robot, all colour drained from my features as she heartily said, "I'm sorry to keep you ladies waiting, but I wanted to gather some roses just for you." She suddenly whipped out a dozen roses (which nearly hit me in the face, might I add) and presented them one by one to the students around her.

"What in the world?"

"Why're you so surprised, Ayakushi-San?! The Hosts in the Ouran Academy Host Club _always_ have roses to present to his Lady!" Tamaki, the one who had shouted, rushed over, roses appearing in his hands as well. Soon enough, every single Host had spontaneously pulled a large bouquet out of nowhere, including Kyoya. The sight was surprisingly hilarious and before I could make even a single sound, a white, thornless rose was presented to me.

My ears felt red and I absentmindedly brushed back a strand of my hair, shakily reaching up to take the pretty rose. However, before I could accept Tamaki's offer, Kyoya shoved him to the side, replacing the white rose with a beautiful lavender one, causing my blush to worsen.

"You only take roses from me, seeing as I am your fiancé," he whispered cruelly, not even daring to move from his ridiculous looking bow until I had grabbed his rose – a hasty decision I knew I would later regret. Chills travelled down my spine and I could feel a depressing wind from behind me and, as I turned, I was shocked to see Tamaki huddled over in the corner bawling like a child.

A sheepish smile made its way onto my face and I bolted to leave the room, although, in all the chaos, I had completely forgotten which of the four identical doors was the exit. I followed my gut instinct, despite it generally being incorrect, and practically kicked down the nearest door to me.

I was greeted with darkness and an eerie feeling of being watched. A mysterious vapour that had a sickeningly sweet scent to it lured me further into that pitch-black room, away from the door I had entered through. With my hands held out in front of me, I carefully shuffled forward, feeling more lost than a newly blind man.

My fingers brushed against a thick curtain and I grabbed it, throwing it to the side and revealing a candlelit ritual, a small group of hooded students seated in a circle around a large cauldron filled with a thick, bubbling liquid.

Whatever the hell I just walked in on, I didn't want to know. As they started chanting, I dropped the curtain, allowing it to fall back into place. I continued to stare blankly before I grabbed the curtain and moved it away again.

"It seems we have a visitor." The one who spoke was situated in the centre, standing before the cauldron with various beacons filled with vile-looking substances, each of them emitting a strangely coloured smoke. "Welcome, welcome to the Black Magic Club! Would you like to dry some of our deadliest potions?"

I blinked. My hand let go once more and this time I managed to back away, an unconvincing laugh escaping me as I bravely stated, "Yeah, I'm good, I think I'm just gonna leave now." I walked until I found the door (an extraordinary feat on its own) and I stepped out, briefly shielding my eyes from the light as I did. My eyes soon adjusted to the brightness and the first thing I saw was a speedy flash of blue that engulfed me in a massive hug, knocking the wind out of me and spinning me around like crazy.

"How could you just go into Nekozawa-Senpai's lair like that?!" screeched a terrified Tamaki, who honestly sounded worse than a howling cat stuck in a tree at midnight. "It was bad enough that one time when I accidentally stepped on his curse doll and ended up in another universe, but infiltrating his House of Evil like that will surely end in your death!"

While he rambled on about some crack story, I simply wriggled around in hopes of him releasing me from his unnecessary and extremely uncomfortable embrace. Why do I always get stuck with morons that love touching people?!

"Not to worry, Princess, we'll protect you from him!"

A strong pair of hands grabbed my underarms and lifted me high and away from Tamaki, but I couldn't see who it was since Tamaki's spinning made me dizzy. "Leave her, Tamaki," spoke up the voice of Takashi. I felt flustered – it was the first time I'd heard him speak and, admittedly, the deepness of his voice was attractive. I looked down at him holding me, the nauseating dizziness fading.

"Whoa! She's blushing!" The twins' shouting caused a panic. For some reason, Tamaki went on a violent rampage, Kyoya's pen snapped in half, and the girls started screaming something to do with "shipping" and "OTPs." The whole ordeal was amusing and, as Takashi placed me back down on the ground, I had to stifle my giggling.

It was then that I realised I wasn't holding my sketchbook and I began searching in a panic, rushing about the room and digging around under couch cushions, behind potted plants, and even under the tea sets (which I would later deem as regretful and embarrassing).

My fear, momentarily forgotten during all the chaos, returned, my hands shaking with barely visible specks of sweat forming on my palms. I felt sick to the stomach. How could I let my guard down around these people?

"You know, you're not half bad, Ayakushi-Senpai!" I spun around, finally noticing the twins had been flipping through my sketchbook the whole time. My knees felt weak and I collapsed in one them – this was just too much!

It only got worse when the other Hosts along with some customers starting crowding around, all trying to get a look at my designs. "We could really use some of these designs, I-sa-bel-la," spoke Kyoya with malicious intent while he simultaneously punched numbers into a calculator.

All I could do was sit there in silence.

"Hey, Boss, weren't we gonna do a Butler café theme next week?" There was a moment of silence before the girls erupted into screams, each of them acting like dogs being offered a treat and, from what I could see, a couple of them were even literally _drooling_ at the thought of the Hosts in Butler uniforms. What, do they have a servant fetish or something?

Nearby to me, I could hear a couple girls whispering heatedly to each other. "I want to see Kyoya in a Butler uniform… but why does he have to dress so formally all the time," the first girl whined pathetically.

"I wonder what it'd be like for Kyoya-kun to have messy clothes _and_ hair," the other added. Their fantasising hadn't been what surprised me, but the fact that there were some girls who even requested for Kyoya in the first place was a massive shock. I'd never seen Kyoya sitting with one of the customers before – I'd automatically assumed he only used his charms for the Host Club's revenue.

From across the room, past the still crazy customers, was Tamaki loudly declaring that I would be the Club's new costume designer, and he'd even purposefully parted the crowd of girls just to point at me. _What an idiot,_ I thought to myself.

Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit me and I frantically shook my head at Tamaki until I saw Kyoya out of my peripheral vision, looking at me with a strange look on his face. Either way, I knew he was non-verbally threatening me, so I nodded sharply and smiled nervously, unwillingly accepting Tamaki's ridiculous job "offer."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 – Apparently, Private Exams Are in the Job Description**

It felt good to wake up on a Saturday morning to my personalised alarm tune, especially when I remembered that I wouldn't have to deal with that dreadful Host Club. They'd been working me raw since the day I joined – sending me on silly errands and constantly tossing pages and pages of costume ideas at me.

Hikaru and Kaoru, in particular, had been exhausting me. Along with their ridiculous pranks, the duo often liked to snatch my sketchbook out of my hands and share hushed conversation as they flipped through the pages. It didn't help when I learned that their mother owned the famous Hitachiin clothing brand. I could've crapped in my pants right then and there.

Somehow, I still managed to keep up in my classes, but as the days passed. I could feel my shoulders sagging and my eyelids dropping more and more often. Even short bursts of caffeine did nothing to increase my energy level and, by Friday, I was about ready to break.

Luckily, I managed to hide my struggles.

Throughout the morning, I sauntered along, absentmindedly completing chore after chore. My efforts were half-assed until I'd accidentally dropped one of the bowls, chipping a large piece out of one side. I cursed – I'd have to replace that as soon as possible.

"I suppose it's still usable," I murmured to myself when I inspected it further. It wasn't as though it shattered or had a big crack running through it. "I'll just have to be careful."

I finished washing, drying, and packing away the dishes before I used the wet towel to wipe my forehead a little. The bright sun and clouds showed no chance of rain, and as I stared up into the blue sky, I felt something soft brush my leg.

"What's up, Westly?" I asked, bending down to scratch the back of my Teacup Golden Retriever pup, who, in turn, jumped up into my arms. I caught him with ease and rubbed my cheek against his head, his golden fur tickling my skin. "You're such a spoilt dog."

Not long after, my phone (Kyoya had gotten it for me) rang loudly, the familiar ringtone that I'd set for Kyoya making me sigh and hit my head against the wall. I ignored it and remained where I was, letting Kyoya leave me voicemail after voicemail for about ten minutes.

I sighed. Kyoya wasn't giving up easy, so I eventually snatched the phone off the desk and flipped it open, just barely opening my mouth to speak when Kyoya stated, "There's an emergency with Haruhi, come to this address."

He hung up after speaking the address, one that I faintly recognised, and I quickly changed into my appropriate gear, stuffing what I already had on into my backpack. I sprinted out to my bike, wasting no time in goodbyes and starting the engine.

I raced down the gravel driveway, almost swerving out of control a few times, but soon enough, I was driving down the road. I could feel some strands of hair that escaped my helmet whipping in the wind behind me.

 _Please, don't let this place be too far away,_ I prayed in my head when I slowed to a stop to allow a large group of students cross the road. Some I recognised from Ouran Academy, but the majority of them were strangers in different uniforms – uniforms that looked admittedly more comfortable than the vibrant yellow dress.

I thanked my helmet for hiding my face from the crowd and, while the hundreds of students continued to walk at a snail's pace, I took the chance to glance around at my surroundings. Unsurprisingly, I'd ended up on a street of beautiful mansions ranging from the Victorian to the modern age.

A voice in my head that reminded me greatly of Lady Bracknell (from 'The Importance of Being Earnest') jokingly criticised some of the houses. I could just imagine her, sipping her tea with her littlest finger sticking out as she stared in distaste at the tiniest crack in a wall or a couple of dead roses that had been left unclipped.

My entertainment was cut short, however, when I'd noticed that all the students had finally disappeared, leaving the road clear for me to drive on. I drove on slowly, allowing my wonder to get the better of me, and stared in awe at each of the houses.

Up ahead was a side street and, at a closer look, I could read the name on the street sign. _I think this is where I'm supposed to go,_ I thought to myself, recalling the address Kyoya gave me. When I turned the corner, I noticed a few out of place cars lined up along the otherwise empty street, one I recognised to be an abnormally large limo with the Ootori crest boldly painted on the sides.

Identical stone walls stood proud and threateningly tall, separated only by a large, spiked gate situated between two matching stone pillars, the white-grey colour complementing the actual walls themselves, which were a light pink colour. They sorely reminded me of Ouran Academy, leading me to conclude that the massive mansion beyond, as I saw through the bars of the gate, belonged to the Suoh family – they had quite the attachment to the vibrancy of peach pink.

I dragged my hand down a few of the bricks, able to feel how expensive they would have been, especially compared to the sloppy, cheap-as-can-be shack I called a home **.** I couldn't help but feel minuscule as I consciously toyed with the holes in my gear, each one just as obvious as the last despite the suit being the least ragged item of my wardrobe, and the longer I stood there, the more I wanted to run away.

"How much longer are you going to stand there, Isabella?" asked Kyoya mechanically and I jumped on the spot, my eyes automatically drawn to the source of the crackly sound – he was speaking through a radio attached to a shining, silver keypad.

"Not long?" I said, uncertain as I stood high on the balls of my feet, having approached the radio and started speaking directly into it, unaware of how awkward it must have looked until Kyoya scoffed, bluntly making me aware of how unnecessary the action was. My face flushed, Kyoya always, without any hesitation or doubt in hs confidence, pointed out things others were oblivious to, and he seemed particularly fond of reminding them of their lack of knowledge, often pestering people with his cold, blackmail-like jokes. "Can you let me in now, Kyoya?"

He did so, though not without a prolonged, heavy sigh, and I followed the wide gravel path to the front porch of the building, eyeing the beautifully trimmed trees, hedges, and expensive roses of every colour. Not a single spot was out of place in the scenery, not even the towering tropical palm trees that fell in with the season, a small clearing parting the order to make room for a crystal white fountain.

"Wow," I said in awe, hesitantly roaming across the recently mowed grass to press my palm to the marble, running my fingers along the smooth structure, feeling not a single crevice or scratch. Three statues stood proudly in the centre of the large fountain, carved perfectly to the stray hairs of the youngest's head, who looked affectionately up at the other two beside him.

"That's the young Master Tamaki, Miss Ayakushi," called a voice from behind me, one belonging to an elderly man. I jumped, quickly withdrawing my hand from touching the marble. "It's quite alright, Miss. You're not the first to be drawn to the Suoh fountain." His face wrinkled (even more than it already was, I dared not to think) when his lips pulled into a wide smile.

"The l-little boy is Suoh-Senpai?"

He nodded, striding forth to stand beside me at the foot of the fountain. "His father's quite enthusiastic to have a new fountain built, as is the Lady of the House, but Master Tamaki will always be insistent on keeping this one."

"Come," he said after a moment's silence. "The young Master has been awaiting your presence for the past half hour." I followed him into the house, finding myself glancing back just a few times at the magnificent fountain. The large door was opened for the both of us, and my attention focused on the glittering, palace-like room beyond. There were multiple chandeliers secured to the high roof above, and I swear that I could see diamonds encrusted in them as well as in the designs on the walls; the marble fountain outside had nothing on this.

Even more hesitant to step onto the reflective tile, fearing I would dirty it, I quickly dropped down on the concrete porch to pull my boots off my feet. I could see, out of the corner of my eye, that the maids of the house were looking at me oddly, but they thankfully said nothing at my display.

Apparently, their mannerisms mattered more than stopping someone from making a fool of themselves.

I stood, shyly shuffling into the Victorian-styled manor noiselessly, thanks to my socks and lack of shoes. "H-hi," I said, awkwardly giving the maids before me a small wave. They each nodded respectively, none of them speaking a single word. I shrunk in my place. Had I done something wrong; was I not supposed to talk to them?

"They won't speak unless told to," spoke a familiar voice, one I was both dreading and relieved to hear. I looked up at the top of the staircase – it was on the far side of the room and extravagant in every way with its polished handrails and red-carpeted steps – and Kyoya stood there in all his glory, he seemed to fit right in with the over-the-top décor. He descended the steps as he said, "A rather unfortunate trait for the staff themselves, but Tamaki's grandmother has always appreciated the quiet. "Silence is golden," I think the saying is."

I wriggled my toes in my socks, awkwardly turning them in.

He smirked when he reached the bottom of the stairs, flipping open his notebook and tapping noisily on the page. "You dawdled outside for far too long. We've lost valuable time in discussing our current dilemma." He leant against the intricately designed pillar at the bottom of the steps, instinctively wrapping his hand around the ball-shaped starting newel.

We stood staring at each other despite what he'd just said, his eyes glaring deep into mine. His nicely groomed fringe fell out of place after a short moment, but I only tore my gaze away from his when he began to walk toward me. I studied his appearance, taking in the expensive get up and how well it suited him; the large, dark peacoat fit him comfortably, and the grey scarf tied in the front (Sherlock Holmes style) covered the bottom of his chin. Just barely visible, beneath the designer gear, was a plain, white dress shirt and black pants held up by a belt.

"Do you even _know_ why you're here? I'm sure I told you over the phone."

"S-something to do with H-Haruhi. An emergency, you said," I replied, unsure of myself.

He sighed. "I suppose calling it an emergency was a bit of a stretch, but I'm interested in how this will pan out. Tamaki will give you an _amusing_ explanation, I'm sure." He spun on the heel of his shoe, his signature smirk plastered on his face.

Thundering steps came from overhead, and a loud voice screamed my name no lighter when a flash of white and gold came soaring dangerously down the staircase. It skidded to a halt in front of Kyoya and me, revealing itself to be none other than Tamaki – wearing his uniform shirt along with bright pink pyjama pants, might I add – panting and shoving Kyoya aside to almost brutally pushing his nose into mine.

We stared, eye to eye, and I only just resisted the temptation to giggle, there being something oddly amusing about having an intense staring contest at such a close distance. "Isabella!" he finally cried out, the squeakiness and loudness of his voice making my insides twist. He threw his arms around me in, what he probably called, a hug, with his body crushing mine as he lifted me off the ground and began spinning me around in circles – I could easily sympathise with how much Haruhi seemed to hate it. He'd also pinned my arms to my sides.

All in all, it was turning out to be a horrible day.

He finally put me down – and I swear it was at least ten minutes later – to distastefully assess my outfit, eyeing the stitched in patches of mismatched fabrics that left only small areas of the original material to show.

"Why do you always wear such dark, disturbing colours?!" he complained melodramatically, even pressing the back of his hand against his forehead like a damsel in distress. "You should dress more like the lovely rose you are!" I could only stare on in pity at his antics, thinking that his exaggerated kindness _must_ be compensation of some sort… not that his constant comments on my clothing could ever be considered kind.

"You know that Tamaki means well, Isabella," said Kyoya with a deep sigh, his fingers delicately sliding his glasses up his nose as they'd started to slip. "Although it would appear that he has a psychosomatic allergy to everything you wear." He laughed, I hummed amusedly.

"Oh, we wouldn't say that!" came a pair of voices that were almost identical, and it didn't take a brain to figure out who was speaking. Hikaru and Kaoru revealed themselves through a side door, both wearing the same outfit, though one donned a scarf with vertical stripes while the other wore a scarf with horizontal stripes – not to mention that they were tied differently, with vertical's wrapped loosely around their head and horizontal's knotted at the neck.

A bouncing boy in pink followed, who, as always, proceeded the towering figure of Takashi. "Tama-Chan doesn't like _any_ dark clothes!"

"It's true. I wore all black once…" began Hikaru.

"…It didn't end well," finished Kaoru.

Kyoya appeared directly behind me, something I think he took joy in doing, saying, "Indeed. To make a long story short, he freaked out." If I'd been paying attention, I might've laughed, but I was distracted by the strange feeling of Kyoya's breath on the back of my neck. It was warm and awkward, sending a weird shiver down my spine, and I was 99 percent sure he was doing it on purpose.

I could only smile, though I'm sure it looked more like a grimace, and attempt a small laugh. "T-that's kinda funny." I released the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding, but the knot in my stomach that came with social interaction only twisted, harshly tightening and making me feel sick.

"Now. Down to business," said Kyoya loudly, resting his hand on the small of my back to lightly push me up the stairs.

I could feel his finger twitching through my clothes.

We were lead into a large room just down the first hall of the second floor, and I struggled to understand just how Tamaki managed to memorise where all the rooms were – everything looked identical to me.

I glanced awkwardly around at the others, wondering if I was the only one that had no clue as to what was going on. The intense silence was somewhat overbearing, but soon enough the whiteboard situated at the head of the table was spun around furiously, almost hitting Kyoya in the head as Tamaki, who'd spent the last few minutes drawing and writing on said board, proudly presented his work.

It was pitiful to look at, especially the Kanji across the top. It was awfully translated and even in the wrong order to a point where (I think) Tamaki himself couldn't read it. I couldn't help the words that flew out of my mouth: "Did you use Google translate?"

The laughter that ensued was loud, probably somewhat exaggerated too, and I could see tears streaming down the twins' faces. Blood rushed to my cheeks, I stared down at my lap in embarrassment, and only glanced up once to see Tamaki standing still as a statue, his mouth agape and his eyes filled to the brim with tears as well. Oh, well, he's always crying at the littlest things. What's one more?

I could've giggled at my short burst of courage, but I didn't. Instead, I silently apologised only by shooting Tamaki a certain, well-practiced look.

"Don't be such a sook, Mommy," Kyoya said, using his infamous notebook to whack the aforementioned "Mommy" on his head. In an instant, the boy stopped crying, and I averted my attention elsewhere, studying the intricate design of the room. Each object held it's simplicity, but on closer inspection, there was always something to contrast, whether it be a delicately painted rose wrapped in loose vines or something else entirely. Just beneath the windows, on the small sections that were as wide as the windows themselves, were symmetrical patterns that stretched across the wall horizontally: in the centre was a rose in full bloom, and on the ends were identical buds. It was like seeing the phases of the moon lined up in a row.

I took some time to appreciate the arches as well, two small and one large, separating the squareness of the room and the rounded window space. I found them pleasant to look at, the simplicity of the paint job, which was plain in comparison to the overall designs.

Someone, in the far distance, cleared their throat. I ignored it, still entranced by the beautiful room, even if I could only spare an appreciative stare at the one area. It was a loud coughing sound this time, and I, feeling rather embarrassed, quickly focused my attention on the whiteboard once more, trying not to grimace at the writing.

"Right, then," said Kyoya in an unconvinced tone – he must have thought my head was still in the clouds. "As _most_ of us know, the school's physical exams are coming up soon and Haruhi… well, Haruhi's a girl dressed as a boy to pay off a debt. Of course, no one other than those who are in this room knows about this, and we must ensure that no one else ever will."

"If everyone finds out that Haru-Chan's a girl, she'll never want to eat cake with us again!"

"I don't think that's an issue right now, Honey-Senpai. Think of how lonely _we'd_ be without our toy!"

I could only turn my head back and forth from Mitsukuni, who gripped Takashi's arm while on the verge of crying, to the twins as they bickered, each of them prioritising all of the wrong things. Over to the side, held back by Kyoya, was a kicking and screaming Tamaki. I couldn't make out much of what he was saying, but I did recognise a few choice words that could've put a drunken idiot to shame.

The group of boys finally set to work after the chaos (somewhat) settled while I watched dumbly, trying to keep up with the constant jeers, shouts, and interruptions – and trying to tell the twins apart was too much of a hassle that made my head spin. Something came up about disguises and a wig, but after a moment of thought, I could've sworn that Kyoya had once mentioned something about private nursing facilities situated throughout the school.

"Um, T-Tamaki?" I raised my hand hesitantly, although one quick shake of the head from Kyoya encouraged me to remain silent, so I quickly retracted my hand as I awkwardly said, "Nevermind."

Kyoya, who pushed up his glasses yet again, grinned – well, he would have if it weren't for the fact that he could barely muster anything other than a smirk – as he sent a subtle nod in my direction. I had a feeling he was planning something and, from what I knew of my fiancé, I knew it wouldn't be a cupcake party (something Honey suggested for a reason unknown to me).

I hadn't noticed that he'd casually strolled around the table to my side until he'd said, "I think I'll be intrigued to see how Tamaki gets out of _this_ one when it crumbles. Being labelled as the "Homosexual Supporting Cast" is not something I appreciate," his malicious tone almost startling me out of my seat.

 _ **OHSHC – OHSHC – OHSHC**_

I gently chewed my fingertips out of habit, waiting in a lone line that stretched out far behind me. The physical exams had arrived sooner than I'd expected, and I felt self-conscious standing with all the girls far richer than me, each of them able to afford to flaunt how they looked. Not far from where I stood, I could see a small crowd gathering around a mess of red hair – the twins had stripped each other of their shirts – and screaming themselves hoarse with delight.

Avid for anything else to look at, I hurriedly averted my flushed stare to see none other than Kyoya, who stood comfortably next to Takashi and Honey, with no shirt on as well. An even deeper heat travelled up my neck, burning at my ears as said boy looked over to smirk at my gaze. A Doctor poked and prodded at his body, thoroughly measuring his entire body while onlookers gaped and drooled. There were even some girls nearby eagerly whispering amongst themselves.

"How does Kyoya stay so fit? I'm pretty sure he doesn't take any sports classes."

"What if he does wrestling in his spare time?" one girl with a particularly annoying voice asked.

The first girl scoffed, "What are you even talking about, Yuna?" The others in the circle seemed to agree that the second girl was out of her mind (something I would've gladly endorsed if I was part of the conversation and not eavesdropping) and they, all in sync, ganged up on her. She shrunk back slightly.

"Well, I mean, it makes sense! Just imagine it!" I closed my eyes, but no thought of _Kyoya Ootori_ even breaking a sweat, let alone wrestling, came to mind. It was simply unimaginable. "Kyoya's the kind of guy that pulls your hair in the sandbox because he likes you, yeah?" The others nodded. "Think about it for a second: another boy starts picking on you and Kyoya runs in to save the day, winning the girl of his dreams in a fight to the death with the naughty boy! It's perfect!"

All of them sighed dreamily while the mere thought of it all made me want to gag – not to mention that I could almost even _see_ the scene playing out over their heads, ending with Kyoya swooping whatever girl into a sickly sweet kiss. I decided I'd keep the thought locked away in the back of my mind. I knew Tamaki would somehow hear about it if I told someone and that would end in yet another fight between him and Kyoya, though it'd be one-sided, considering Tamaki's power complex and Kyoya's unwillingness to fight.

Speak of the devil, Tamaki himself appeared at my side, enthusiastically throwing his arm around my shoulders as he rambled about some nonsense or other. He led me over to where the other Hosts were sitting, some with their clothes still partially undone for audience entertainment. Even Kyoya had shed his jacket and tie – something I could never imagine him doing.

"Ah, Isabella," said Kyoya dryly, turning the attention from Haruhi to me, and I shuffled uncomfortably. "We're just about to commence Tamaki's plan. Please, do have a seat, we've much to discuss." He patted the spot on the couch beside him, giving me that demanding glare from behind his spectacles; I knew I'd have to sit down or there'd probably be hell to pay later.

He hesitantly, at the oddly close stare of the twins and Tamaki, placed his hand on his lap, angling it just so that his fingertips touched mine. I could feel him twitch slightly at the contact, but his face remained unchanged as he gave a forced smile to the others.

"What are you d-doing?"

"Oh, you're not happy with this either? That's fine, then. See, Tamaki, I told you… the arrangement is strictly business related." He quickly retracted his hand, resulting in the exhalation of a held breath from me and a sigh of relief from him. His touch, despite it only being his fingertips just barely sitting on top of my own, froze me right to the core.

The blonde, however, was fuming. "IF YOU WANT A MARRIAGE TO WORK, YOU HAVE TO HAVE LOVE!" he cried, pointing at us, though while I quickly glanced around, not knowing what to do, Kyoya was indifferent. Another thing neither of us had in common: the ability to stay calm in the line of fire.

"And _who_ is getting married?" Kyoya responded darkly. That did it. Tamaki knew he'd crossed a line this time, and he'd barely managed to squeak out a reply ("Absolutely no one!") as he scrambled to the plump armchair furthest from the dark-haired demon. "I won't have you spilling my current _relationship status,_ " he spat the words like they were poison on his lips, "so you'd do well to keep your mouth shut, Suoh."

To say the others were shocked was an understatement. Hell, even I was shitting bricks – Kyoya had never been that angry before, not even when his father made threats on his future or deeply insulted him, which usually ended with a scream of anguish and him punching his pillow multiple times.

The time we had was gradually getting shorter, so I gently tapped on Kyoya's shoulder, ignoring the horrifying aura he seemed to emit. "What," he snapped, whipping his head around to face me, his anger still evident in his eyes until he'd properly looked at me. "Oh, right, I need to tell you something."

"You'll be examined privately with Haruhi in another room. Of course, she won't be joining you until this ridiculous plan of Tamaki's collapses in on itself," he whispered into my ear. To anyone else, he probably looked like he was flirting (I wouldn't know, I couldn't exactly watch), but I could almost literally _feel_ his evil smirk. I had to smile too, though, since I knew Tamaki would forgive him soon enough – he was setting up a private checkup to keep Haruhi's identity a secret, after all.

It was only a few minutes of golden silence later that the nurse called on Haruhi and the so-called elaborate plan was executed, with Honey and Mori even attempting to cosplay as Doctors to distract the poor girl. She was soon whisked away behind a curtain by the King himself, and the ordeal would have been swoon-worthy if not for the second half of the plan, which consisted of Tamaki in a wig trying to pull off an awful high-pitched voice.

To make a long story short, he ended up with a very red face after Haruhi dealt with him behind closed doors (well, technically it was behind a curtain). Luckily for her, none of the boy's fan club heard the slap.

"Time to go," Kyoya said, getting up from his place and wandering over to Haruhi's changing stall with me at his heels, flexing up and down on my toes as the announcement sounded overhead.

" _Will Fujioka, Haruhi and Ayakushi, Isabella-Grace please make their way immediately to the private clinic in the South Hall? Again, will…"_ the message repeated and I turned at a tap on my shoulder. It was Haruhi, offering her arm for me to take, which I reluctantly accepted before we headed off with Kyoya, who was to direct us.

When we left the crowded room, something that made me breathe a quiet sigh of relief, Haruhi thanked Kyoya. Of course, being Kyoya, he replied with, "It was only necessary. You do have a debt to pay off – a debt your children's _children_ will be paying if we have to make you our "Dog" again. I, for one, think that's far too much of a hassle to deal with, so this was the only option that came to mind."

She looked up at him, far too mesmerised to be concerned with the jab at her being a commoner. "Did you know Tamaki's plan would fail?"

"Of course, but what he doesn't know can't hurt him in this case. I am neither gay nor Tamaki's supporting cast." He grinned almost maniacally. "Revenge is a sweet thing, is it not?"

The crossdresser beside me was stunned while I shrugged indifferently. It wasn't the first time Kyoya allowed Tamaki to be publicly humiliated, and it wouldn't be the last time either, especially not when he made jabs at his friend's "inferiority," despite said friend being the reason the Host Club was even stable financially. Although I had to admit that thinking about it sometimes made my head spin – it was like watching a baby throw its rattle then crying when it realised it was gone.

"Here we are." He gestured flippantly, looking almost as bored as his tone suggested, at the large double doors, which then opened to reveal a temporary clinic set up. There were two changing stalls – one for each of us, I guessed – and a single nurse stationed at a small desk littered with papers, pens, a laptop, and a lamp. "Do be hasty, Haruhi. After all, you have _many_ scheduled clients today."

The nurse turned at our entrance and smiled broadly. "Miss Fujioka, Miss Ayakushi," she spoke with a slight lisp. "I've been made aware of your situations. Please, use the stalls to undress so we can begin your measurements."

I offered to have my examination first – mostly because Haruhi seemed far more uncomfortable than myself – and quickly disrobed behind the curtain until I wore only my bra (nothing spectacular to stare at, I assure you) and bike shorts. The nurse frowned at my body, and she seemed hesitant to speak while I stared at myself in the full-length mirror.

"Miss Ayakushi…"

I nodded for her to continue. False happiness might have pleased the other girls in the school, but I was more than ready to hear what she had to say.

"You have quite the thin frame… uh… What are your eating habits?"

I shrugged. "I eat fine. It's j-just that, sometimes, I forget to, you know? I don't get hungry that often, especially not when I'm b-busy." It was the truth. I knew my ribs were almost protruding and that I looked dangerously frail, but that was just how I'd been my entire life.

She wrote a few things down, that frown never leaving her face. "Does your family have a history of eating disorders such as anorexia?" And there it was. The inevitable question that frustrated me, that stupid question that everyone always asked.

"No. I just don't get hungry," I said, dark and without a single stutter. "I don't have a disorder. I'm not scared to gain weight. I just physically can't because I've never eaten as much as other people." The nurse could only nod with her jaw slightly dropped, and the moment she finished poking, prodding, measuring, and listening to my heart beat, I hastily retreated. I forced the curtain shut behind me and sunk to the floor, my back against the wall and my knees to my chest.

Suddenly, there was a quickly muffled shriek in the stall beside me. I stiffened, seeing a second, much larger shadow on the floor of Haruhi's stall. Only seconds later, however, there were multiple pairs of thundering footsteps and familiar voices, so I quickly grabbed my tank top that I wore over my bra and pulled it on.

"Are you alright?" asked a determined, panting Kyoya as he pulled the curtain open. "He didn't come in here, did he?" He almost sounded jealous, but I knew better than to think that he'd waste time with something so trivial. A quick glance down at my attire did bring a light pink to his cheeks, and he averted his eyes as he shrugged off the jacket he'd probably only just put on only to hold it out in front of him. "Wear this."

I stood to take the jacket, wasting no time in wrapping around my body before stepping out of the stall behind Kyoya, who still refused to lay his eyes on me, though that only plagued my mind until I caught sight of the struggling, scruffy man tied up on the floor. I gasped.

"Don't get the wrong idea! I'm not a pervert!" I raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to believe him or not. It seemed a little silly for a pervert to try and sneak a peak at some elite girls with security guards running around everywhere, but, at the same time, the Host Club often managed to attract every danger known to man.

"My name is Yabu. I'm trying to find my daughter – she attends school here – so I can see her just one more time. The truth is: I can't say no to people, I have no idea how to manage money, and the debts are through the roof. My wife left with my daughter a while ago because of my IOUs." His words struck a small chord with me, and I felt compelled to listen to him, even though it was a little strange that a man in so much debt could afford to send his daughter to a private academy. "I was mistaken as a Doctor for the students when I arrived."

The twins sighed. "Well, you are wearing a lab coat."

Kyoya, who'd been oddly quiet for a while (it was unlike him not to speak up during an interrogation), finally spoke up. "Does your daughter go to Ourin Public Highschool? Because this is Ouran Academy, a private institution."

The man's jaw dropped. "I'm in the wrong school?!"

"Kyoya," demanded Tamaki, "please, find a map to Ourin. I want to help this man find his daughter."

"Whatever you say."

I shared a look with Haruhi, one of impatience and irritation. The both of us were still half-dressed, after all, and it was starting to get a bit awkward. "C-Can you leave now?" we asked at the same time, something she had a good giggle about later on, and the boys were confused at first until Haruhi pointed out our state of dress.

"I love how cute you are, Haruhi!"

"Who cares! Will you guys just get out of here already?!"

I sighed, watching through one of the large windows as Tamaki waved off Doctor Yabu. Unsurprisingly, it all turned out to be no different to any other day. Hopefully, everything would settle down for the next one, but I highly doubted the chance.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Haruhi eyeing me with concern. "Haruhi, I promise you. I don't have a disorder. Except for my st-stutter, I suppose. Today was an okay day."

"How so?" she asked.

"It's not every day that Tamaki talks to a commoner without dramatising their situation." I allowed myself to smile a little bit, and, however fleeting, I let the moment of happiness rush through me. Turning around, I saw Haruhi stifling giggles, and I soon joined in, relishing in the full-blown laughter that followed.

Yes, it was an okay day indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

My struggle: IS IT "KNIT" OR "KNITTED" BECAUSE NEITHER OF THEM LOOK RIGHT.

 **Chapter 4 – Renge's "Great" Idea Doesn't Sound Great to Me**

* * *

Days end and another takes its place, and while they say that each sunrise is a new beginning, why do I always find myself living the same chaos-filled plot every time? I sighed at the voice in my head, willing it to stop reminding me of the Host Club as I rubbed at my temples, trying and failing to ignore the shouts of many girls behind me.

"I haven't slept in days…" I mumbled to myself, "but I've got to finish this." I picked up my pencil for about the millionth time that afternoon, staring intensely at the same problem I'd been stuck on for the past half hour even though no solution came to my mind. I gave up after a few minutes, however, when another cry of "Oh, Tamaki!" sounded right as I'd made a move to try and answer the question. I turned in my seat and reeled my arm back, preparing to throw my pencil across the room.

"No, Isabella." Pouting at the harsh voice of my fiancé, I spun back around to face him sitting at the other side of my table, his laptop placed strategically on his thigh instead of the table top itself, where all of my work was littered. He'd hardly even looked up to scold me, his eyes darting back and forth from a calculator to his laptop in intense focus. "Tamaki may be annoying, but he earns most of the Club's revenue. If you throw something at him, he'll get depressed and even more annoying than before – it'll probably scare away his customers."

Sighing yet again, I set my pencil down on the table, but not without stabbing my workbook one more time before I did. I snapped the offensive book shut and pushed it aside to make room for a cake that Haruhi, who's timing was spot-on, offered me. I nodded thanks and hesitantly dug into the beautiful slice, resisting the urge to voice my pleasure at the taste when the chocolate melted on my tongue.

"T-this is good," I told Kyoya quietly, shovelling bite after bite into my mouth a little faster than was polite. His lips quirked up into a slight smirk as he hummed in agreement, all the while never glancing away from his work and using the back of his hand to push his glasses up.

I paused my feast, however, when the twins piped up nearby, asking Kyoya about album collections that he sold on occasion. "Well, yes, the Club does make a fair amount of money from _those_ promotional items, but all of our photos are taken secretly and can hardly be considered professional. Hiring a photographer for better quality pictures would only draw from the school's budget."

There were a couple of minutes of silence after that, other than Kyoya tapping away at his keyboard and the odd Host or customer in the background loudly exclaiming something. I watched him patiently, staring at his fingers as they swiftly moved from one side of the keyboard to the other until he suddenly closed the lid of his laptop, resting his now free hand on top of it. I glanced up to see his gaze on me, an irritated look on his face (at first, I thought it was because of me staring at him, and I gulped, but he spoke of something else entirely only seconds later).

"Do you remember that man that came to dinner on business last night? The French one with the daughter that stayed behind because of a video game or something?"

"Yes?" I tilted my head, wondering why he was bringing this up, of all things.

His eyebrows knitted together, and I could tell that he was just as confused. "Apparently, the daughter made a last-minute decision to visit Japan on her own without booking a hotel room. She'll be living in my house for the next few days until she finds appropriate accommodation."

At that moment, the bell rang, signalling the end of Club activities for the day. I heaved a sigh of relief and started gathering all of my papers and workbooks, stuffing them unceremoniously into my homemade satchel. Across the table, Kyoya had also begun packing up, though he was far gentler with his laptop.

I watched as the crowd of girls slowly dispersed, gossiping and laughing with each other as they did. They each stopped to bid goodbye to their chosen Hosts, and they all politely replied, but the moment all the girls were gone, the boys began their complaints and teasing. I somehow managed to ignore them until I heard: "I swear, Boss, she was so close to throwing her pencil at your head!"

"Is this true, Isabella?!" shrieked Tamaki as he stomped childishly up to me. I could only blush and avoid his stare. "Oh, the betrayal wounds me! Just now, even Haruhi accused my tears of being fake!" It was then that I noticed that all of the Hosts, aside from Kyoya, all had watery eyes like they were on the brink of tears.

"Oh, dear God," I muttered to myself.

He swooned rather melodramatically. "I, of all people, could never bring myself to use eye drops! My tears have never been more genuine…" his voice trailed off as it became nothing but an annoying, far away drone, and my attention focused on a small figure that moved in the background. Even from that distance, I could tell it was no one I'd ever seen before – her lips and jawline were quite prominent, and she had a pink tinge to her cheeks – but she wore an Ouran uniform.

The twins were next to notice the stranger, instantly sidling up close to her (I still had no idea how they managed to sneak around so much!) and inviting her to join in their antics.

"Stop that, you shady twins, you must be more courteous to our first-time guests. Please, my Princess, don't be afraid." Tamaki had run up at the sight of the girl and taken her chin in his hand, tilting her head up to face him as he always did. "I welcome you to Ouran Academy's Host Club!"

She trembled, her lips pursed, and I knew something bad was coming. My assumption was correct when the young girl shouted, "Don't touch me, you phoney!" I could hear a faint French accent when she spoke, but I held more regard to what she was saying rather than how she was saying it, especially when she began _insulting_ Tamaki.

"I find it hard to believe that someone like you is the Prince character of this Host Club, and you shouldn't spread your love around like it's an STD so easily!" I had to giggle at that one – I was beginning to think that no one around here had the balls to say something so naughty (not including the twins). "You're stupid!"

"You're a _dim-witted narcissist!"_

"Incompetent!"

"Stupid! A Commoner!"

"You're disgusting!"

While Tamaki flew back into a faint at her words, Kyoya stood off to the side with a concentrated look on his face. He stared at Renge, a thoughtful, dazed gleam in his usually attentive eyes. I would've thought he was attracted to the young girl, but I quickly dismissed the idea. Tamaki fainting in slow-motion: that was somehow achievable. Kyoya falling in love was _impossible._

Speak of the devil, Kyoya slowly became aware of the situation and eventually began to say, "I don't suppose you are…"

The strange girl ran forward, her arms open and ready to embrace when she cried, "It's you! Kyoya! My one and only Prince Charming!" She threw her arms around his waist, burying her head in his kimono while he could only look down in shock, thrown off by her sudden hug. Once he composed himself, he awkwardly patted her shoulder, clearing his throat as a signal for her to let go.

"Renge Houshakuji, it's a pleasure to meet you at last." He bowed, gently taking her hand and placing a kiss upon the knuckles, causing her to blush heavily. "I assume you're already aware of my name, but I am Kyoya Ootori." His cheerful tone and smile seemed forced, but I could sense an unfamiliar hidden motive behind his actions.

After brief introductions, everyone took a seat at a matching sofa and table set, though while all the boys either stood or sat in their respective places on one sofa, Renge sat beside me. Her smile was sweet and her posture excellent, and I struggled to compete – something Kyoya noticed and found amusement in, despite my trying to be discreet.

"Wait, _you're_ Kyoya's fiancé?! What about Isabella?" I frowned, having missed the first part of the conversation, and focused my stare on Renge, who was none the wiser to everyone's confusion.

Tamaki, almost instantly, began sulking.

And the twins made light of the situation, of course, by pointing it out. "Ha! He's sulking because "Mommy" was keeping a secret from "Daddy"!" I nearly spit out the tea I'd been drinking. _Mommy and Daddy? When did_ that _become a thing?_

Kyoya glowered at the two. "Whatever. Why does everyone insist on labelling us as husband and wife?" They would've replied, but the moment they opened their mouths, the strange French girl suddenly started blurting out dreamy nonsense.

"Oh, when you adored the flowers in the yard when you thought no one was looking, and when you reached out to that injured kitten! I just couldn't resist it!" My eyebrows flew up to my hairline. Was she even talking about the same Kyoya? It was unlikely.

"Are you serious? Could you have the wrong person?" Haruhi verbalised for me.

She all but glared at Haruhi as she shouted, "No way! I can recognise my love anywhere! He's a gentleman who never asks for anything in return for his help!"

"He likes solitude, but he sometimes gets lonely!"

"He's my real life Ichijo Miyabi, the star of the dating sim "Uki-Doki Memorial." The two are identical!"

The twins and Tamaki, being the melodramatics they were, started screaming about her obsession, calling her an "Otaku" and trying to claim they'd never seen one before. I almost scoffed aloud at that; they were fawned over by Otaku nearly every day, they could hardly deny it.

Kyoya, however, looked as though he'd just had an epiphany. "I get it, now. You're in love with that character, so you're projecting your love onto me because I happen to look like him (I assume he wears glasses as well), and now you've somehow deluded yourself into thinking we're engaged." He shared a glance with me. "How troublesome, since I don't remember ever asking for your hand in marriage." I looked down at that, feeling awkward.

He'd never actually asked for my hand in marriage, either.

"Besides, this is the first time I've ever met the woman," he added for good measure to please Tamaki, who already seemed quite happy with Renge having made up their supposed engagement.

Blatantly ignoring the following conversation was much easier than I thought it'd be as I absently picked at my nails, staring ahead as random thoughts swarmed through my head. I tried to imagine Kyoya's life with him engaged to Renge instead, which turned out to be rather amusing, though I could almost pity my imaginary Kyoya as he suffered through the Otaku's torture.

A sudden shout brought my attention back to the situation at hand. "I've made up my mind! From now on, I'm going to be the Host Club's manager!"

"Um, listen, Kyoya…" said Tamaki.

"Miss Houshakuji is the only daughter of a client. I must ask that you be polite and try not to upset her," the dark-haired boy responded sternly. I knew he'd had a hidden motive behind his false kindness! I should've recognised his plan sooner, however, and I knew he'd probably give me a lecture on it later. "And besides, she's transferring to class 1-A, which is _Haruhi's_ class."

"Oh, yeah! Renge could spark that hidden femininity within Haruhi! If she's going to start acting like a girl, then now's our chance to help her." I grimaced at his undying issues with girls preferring manliness over girlishness. "Haruhi's only friends in her class right now are those twins – that can't be good for her."

The twins, having heard him, sauntered over, their expressions identical but their poses mirrored. "Like you have room to talk!" they accused.

"Renge–"

As though summoned, the girl suddenly appeared alongside her new friend – who looked rather worse for wear with her hair dishevelled and specks of flour smeared across her cheeks – while flourishing a plate of cookies.

"Haruhi and I baked cookies for you!" she sang, skipping over to the table Tamaki had seated himself at alongside Kyoya. "Not for you, you phoney Prince!" She tried her best to cover the plate she was holding with her free hand, shielding her so-called "cookies" from Tamaki when he reached for one. "They're a little burnt, sorry, but I know you'll promise to say you love them, anyway!"

Kyoya looked on in confusion, clearly having no idea what she wanted him to tell her, but he accepted the smallest cookie and hesitantly nibbled on the charred edge. "It could use some work, but the flavour isn't the worst."

Haruhi took one for herself from the plate and agreed with the Shadow King, though she was more honest about her opinion (probably because she didn't eat first-class biscuits on a daily basis). "May I try?" a twin asked, turning the poor girl's face to the side so he could bite off the rest of her cookie.

"Oh, Haruhi, you've got crumbs on your face!" the other twin teased, repeating his brother's actions and sticking out his tongue to lick off the crumbs. I shared a look of disgust with Kyoya, but he soon dismissed it as normal behaviour for them – he did make a comment, however, that only made a screaming Tamaki even angrier.

And as usual, Haruhi was completely oblivious to their antics. "You could've just told me, you know, and I would've wiped it off. No need to be so dramatic. Also, if you want to try one, just take one off the plate – it's unhealthy to share food."

I ignored everything else they said to each other, though I could distinctly recognise Tamaki's shouts of advice from the other side of the room. "Can we g-go home?" I asked Kyoya a bit desperately, thinking of my exhaustion and the pile of homework weighing down my satchel.

"Fine with me. There's a car waiting outside, and Renge will be sure to follow when I leave. I have a feeling she'll be rather insistent on ensuring that we're never apart from each other," he started, getting up from his seat and instinctively holding out his arm for me to take. "Hopefully, she won't be too much of a problem when we're trying to study."

* * *

The car ride had been incredibly awkward, as always, but with Renge constantly trying to slide up close to Kyoya, who was pressed uncomfortably against the window to keep away, it only made things worse. So much worse. As we had pulled up to the house, Renge had practically screamed at the modern design and how it was better than she'd imagined.

I failed to see the beauty in the silvery grey colours on the mansion. It almost looked lonely against the beautifully blue night sky.

Sitting directly across from me was Kyoya, who, as we pulled into the driveway, could only grimace as Renge practically clambered onto his lap to peer out of his window. My shock at his expressiveness must've not gone unnoticed, though, since he soon pulled his lips up into his legendary smirk after he glanced up at me.

"Yes. Society grows more appreciative of monochromatic colours in houses with each passing year, especially those in the black and white region." He gestured to the mansion as the driver, whose timing was inexplicably perfect, slowed to a stop right outside the porch.

"Oh, Kyoya," she sighed dreamily, "I just _knew_ that you're good with colour. I bet it's you who designs the Host Club's costumes ideas!" She crawled back to her seat and stared at the boy with adoration in her eyes.

He cleared his throat. "Well, it's Isabella who does all that work. I do give her a basic plan to follow, though. Tamaki is sometimes quite detailed when he comes up with a specific "fantasy" for a session." He nodded in my direction as he spoke, and I blushed (out of shyness) at his mention of me.

"The kimonos we wore today," he continued, "were created as promotional items for the Hitachiin clothing line, though I'm sure Isabella would have done just as well. She's quite the designer herself – you should look at her work one day." My jaw dropped. I couldn't tell if his comment was serious or mocking, but whatever it was, it made me desperate to get out of that car as soon as possible.

My wish was granted, thankfully, when the driver stepped out of the car and opened the door, allowing me to scramble out with my bag and hurry into the house, ignoring the spluttering driver who'd tried to greet me. I felt guilty, sure, but anything beat being out there with Kyoya any longer.

"Good evening, Miss," chirruped a maid, indifferent to my late-night presence as she carried away folded towels and flannels. I walked briskly past her, consciously bowing my head and pulling my cardigan closer to my body as I jogged up the stairs.

"Isabella?" I heard Kyoya call from below, but I kept on walking when I reached the top of the steps, refusing to let him see my face. Not soon enough, I saw the door to my room, which was, unfortunately, only down the hall from Kyoya's. I let out the breath I was holding in as I opened it and slammed it shut behind me, leaning against it.

" _I'm sure Isabella would have done just as well."_ I groaned as the words rushed through my head, and I rubbed my hands over my face and through my hair after dropping my satchel to the ground. I could only ask myself, "What the hell d-did he mean by _that?"_

I collapsed onto the large bed that was identical to Kyoya's in the next room, but I tried not to think of that as I used my feet to kick off my shoes, not caring as they fell to the floor noisily. I buried my face in my pillow, though it was only temporary when I remembered I needed to breathe.

" _She's quite the designer herself,"_ I whispered, feeling an embarrassed heat creep up my neck and burn my ears. I whispered them to myself once more. When he'd said them, I was certain it was just him being rude to me, however subtly, but now it felt like he was trying to say he was proud. I began to smile, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get rid of it as I rolled around on my bed, grabbing one of my other pillows to cover my face.

"Why am I like this?" I had to say out loud, even though it seemed obvious. I'd never _actually_ been complimented before, especially not by Kyoya, and it felt awesome.

Surely that was it, right?

My thoughts were disturbed when the door burst open and in came Renge with her hair released from the bow she wore, a pair of glasses perched upon her nose, and her body donning pyjamas. I looked over at the clock, frowning at how late it had gotten before I focused on the pacing girl before me.

"When d-did you get glasses?" I stuttered.

She sent me an evil glare. "How could you not tell me Kyoya was already engaged? And to a _commoner,_ no less! I didn't think someone as smart and proper as Kyoya Ootori would ask for the hand of an amateur _fashion designer."_ Her finger pointed at me sharply, just inches from my eyes, and I flinched back, staring up at her sadly.

"Why is it you?" she (somehow) whined and demanded at the same time, and I was certain she would never leave until I answered her, so I pushed her hand away and sat up in my place. I patted the spot on the bed beside me, inviting her to sit with me.

Her eyes widened when I told my story for the first time, leaving no detail untouched – I'd never prepared for the moment, I thought no one would ever find out – and there were even tears falling down her face by the end of it. I never thought it was that sad, but Renge tended to be just as melodramatic as Tamaki sometimes (after having known her for all of six hours, I considered myself an expert).

She softly said, "So you–"

"Yes."

A sweet smile graced her lips, one that was genuine and nothing more than kind and gentle – it was a huge difference compared to earlier, and it was an improvement, especially since her previous grins were all determined and sadistic. It was short-lived, of course, and soon replaced by that frightening smile I feared.

"Well, then. I'll just have to get you and Kyoya together _for real!"_

"What?!"

She threw her arms into the air, excited and unstoppable as she began rambling. "Yes! I can see it now! Your tale of woe is incomplete without someone falling in love, and you've got the perfect candidate – you're already engaged! Oh, I already have the perfect plan!"

I sighed, knowing there was no point in telling her that it would never happen. The odds of Kyoya and I ever liking each other as _friends,_ let alone _falling in love,_ were a million to one, though the fanciful idea itself didn't sound so harmful.

"Fall in l-love? I g-guess I wouldn't mind b-being able to… I don't think K-Kyoya will ever be part of t-this, though, and I d-don't want him to be." I told her firmly, hoping my words wouldn't go through one ear then fly out the other.

"But you two are perfect for each other! Think about it. You hate each other, _and_ you've got a sad backstory! It's a textbook romance just waiting to happen, so I'm going to make sure it does!" I glanced behind me at the wall that separated my room to Kyoya's, begging silently for him not to wake up and hear everything Renge was saying.

I shushed her with a finger to my lips. "N-no, Renge. It's not going to happen."

"See!" she whispered. "You're acting just like the protagonist of a love story! I just have to convince you that you're really in love with him! Maybe I can– " I internally groaned as she continued, hearing a beep as my watch passed onto the next hour. Perhaps I wouldn't catch up on that much-needed sleep after all. Who knows? Even if I managed to doze off, I knew I'd be hearing her nagging voice in my dreams anyway.

* * *

A/N – Yes. I gave Renge glasses, but she NEVER wears them except at night when she takes her contacts out. She plays her game in the dark all the time with a bright screen. Surely that isn't good for her, so I sent her to an optometrist.

A/N – Also. ANOTHER CHAPTER SO SOON! YEAH!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N – GUYS IT'S HAPPENING! HOLD ON TO YOUR PANTIES AND YOUR POPCORN!

 **Chapter 5 – Haruhi Murdered Her Bento, and I Think My Tea was Drugged.**

* * *

I trudged into the schoolyard after Kyoya, sluggishly responding to greetings while constantly having to lift my satchel higher on my shoulder, feeling it slip from my hunched posture and general soreness from the previous night. Renge hadn't shut up all night, babbling one ridiculous plan after another (she also used hand gestures throughout, some of which disturbed me to no end) until I was sure she'd need at least twenty painkillers for a jaw cramp.

The girl herself, who'd be spending the next few nights in Kyoya's house, skipped merrily ahead, showing no sign of staying up all night like me.

"Are you excited for your first day, Renge?" Kyoya asked, being ever the gentleman as he led us through the Rose maze. It wouldn't be long until the bell would ring, but Kyoya told me that he'd memorised the layout on his first day here – something about upholding a reputation – and I had no reason to doubt him. Occasionally we'd stop and admire a particularly pretty rose, something I took no notice of while walking behind the two.

"Oh, sure! I think I'm a bit nervous about my first day Managing the Club, though. I have a lot of ideas to help with business!" She had a lot of ideas, alright, but they had absolutely nothing to do with the Host Club. I scoffed, and she must've heard me because she glanced back and winked dramatically, raising her finger to her lips.

I just rolled my eyes.

As we ventured deeper into the maze, I began to grow more and more bored. Sure, the maze was okay, but when your only company were both preoccupied with each other, the hedge walls tend to get a little too repetitive to be fascinating anymore. I could have screamed my relief out loud when we finally came upon the gazebo – the centre of the labyrinth.

We paused, admiring the way the gazebo seemed to be shrouded in wild roses, but not a single thorn passed the wooden pillars, leaving the inside untouched. "We have a little bit of time," Kyoya said, answering the unspoken question, so we all slid onto the concrete bench, Renge taking the chance to push me ahead of her, making sure I was in between them both.

"So, Kyoya…" began Renge, and the way she nudged me and sent me a mischievous wink could only mean trouble. She was up to something. "I hear you're engaged to Isabella, here."

He glanced at her, seemingly puzzled. "Well, yes. I was the one that told you, remember?" I smirked triumphantly, pleased that I hadn't had to try and weasel my way out of her scheme, despite it being a little bit pathetic anyway. Renge, however, only narrowed her eyes, and I could've sworn that I heard her mutter under her breath, "The harder the challenge, the better the result."

"Are you going to keep your relationship quiet? You know, like a forbidden love?!" Her excitement escalated with each word, but I was just about ready to slap her. "Oh, that would be so romantic!" I frowned, still sparing a look at Kyoya, intrigued to know as well.

He said nothing, staring straight ahead and not paying any acknowledgement to Renge even speaking. Although I was also disappointed at his silence, the eager girl on the other side of me finally took the hint to shut up, though that didn't stop her from giving me yet another wink.

"I suppose the public will have to find out eventually…" His voice trailed off, and he paused for a moment, staring ahead with a small frown. "Class will be starting soon," he snapped unexpectedly, checking his wristwatch. "Let's head off."

We followed him back out of the maze, and both Renge and I were concerned with his sudden passiveness – it was unlike him to be so unalert. He suddenly lacked that judgemental vibe, remaining entirely neutral for the rest of the walk instead. I shared a look with Renge as the school came nearer and the bell rang out. Murmured goodbyes were said before we parted ways, and while Renge headed towards the East wing, I followed Kyoya up the Nothern hall stairs.

"Come with me."

"Wait, what?" I questioned, seeing him turn left rather than right, where we were supposed to go.

He looked back only for a second, but his face still held that blankness. "I want tea," he grumbled, "and I think I'd prefer it in someone's company. Considering you're here with me, you'll have to do. I'm certain we won't get into trouble." I tried not to be insulted and walked behind him all the way to the South hall, ignoring the gaggles of giggling fangirls passing by that spotted Kyoya.

Music Room 3 eventually came into our sights, abandoned just as it had been before Tamaki took over. There were no blinding lights nor was it raining rose petals when we stepped inside, but all the couches and tables stood where they were supposed to. It all looked odd without the Host Club and their guests there.

"Why h-here?"

He smiled for the first time that day. "There's an en suite, kitchen, and store room here and I've got the keys to all three. Plus, no one will disturb us until the end of the day when club activities begin." I hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing (I was more worried about missing my classes, to be honest.)

Kyoya wandered about the room, setting his bag down on one of the armchairs before throwing open the curtains covering some of the windows. The light shone through, filling up most of the room, and I had to cover my eyes for a moment.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said. I tossed my bag onto the floor and collapsed onto the nearest sofa, my body taking up the whole space. It felt good to be rid of manners for a while, considering Kyoya never really cared what I did unless it was inappropriate in public.

He seated himself across from me on the other sofa before twisting and lying down on his back. Thankfully, we were in a corner where the light was soft, not blinding. It would've been a little nice to gaze out the window, but Kyoya seemed contempt, so I opted to stare at his face for a bit.

 _I guess he looks pretty handsome,_ I thought to myself, eyeing his thin face and soft cheekbones. _I wonder what he'd look like_ actually _smiling for once._ His lips parted, his tongue darting out to moisten them as his eyes blinked open.

"My apologies. I nearly dozed off." He sat up for a moment, pressing his fingers to his temple. "I'm rather tired today, could do with a bit of sleep," he mumbled, the words almost impossible to make out when they began slurring together. It was strange to hear, and I was tempted to laugh until I noticed what he'd just said.

I nervously asked, "What k-kept you up-p last night?"

"Renge, of course," he answered. "I suppose it's beneficial for you to be here too, then. I don't think you'd get much work done either with her voice still ringing in your head all day." I gulped. "Also, I'm sure she's already told at least the twins about her schemes – yes, I heard all about those – and they've done enough damage to our situation by trying to get me to date you."

"Right," I whispered after his rant, still trying to take in that he'd heard all of Renge's jabber from the night before. I twirled a strand of my hair, avoiding his eyes. "I thought T-Tamaki was doing all of that."

He scoffed, running his hand through his hair. "Well, yes, he is, but the twins seem to think it'd be funny or something like that to see me date someone. I doubt that'll happen, especially with my engagement to you." He smirked. "This is only a business relationship, after all, and it won't do good for my reputation as an Ootori to have an affair."

I nodded, past the point of being offended by his comments about our engagement. Kyoya was notorious for them at this point – he said them around the twins and Tamaki a lot (who were always nearby and listening).

We fell into an awkward silence after that, neither of us wanting the quiet nor wanting to start the next conversation. Kyoya finally decided to end it by offering tea, which I accepted eagerly, having only drunk instant coffee for the past few weeks because of Tamaki and his weird obsession with the stuff.

When Kyoya returned, I was about ready to nod off myself. I'd forgotten how wonderful sleep was between getting up early for school, staying up late to do homework, and spending the majority of my time around the Host Club both in and out of school. I took the tea anyway, sipping the sweet mixture. I almost grimaced at the amount of milk and sugar, wondering how someone as dark, someone as bitter as Kyoya could drink such weak tea.

"I quite like the taste of sweet things," he answered without even knowing my question. "I don't usually eat or drink any, but the occasional treat away from prying eyes is… relaxing, almost." I nodded yet again, pleased that I had the chance to learn so much about Kyoya in less than an hour. Most of the time, he'd refuse to open up to me.

"My favourite has to be those Guylian chocolates from Belgium," he continued. "I know they're sold quite cheap in commoners' supermarkets, but the taste is fascinating; it almost tastes like hazelnuts, but it doesn't at all!" I think he was smiling down at his cup, fondly remembering those chocolates, but I couldn't quite see past his fringe, which had fallen forward.

I continued drinking the tea after it cooled a bit, developing a liking for it the more I swallowed. At least it never left a horrible after taste like the instant coffee, but I was too nervous to ask for some milk or sugar.

Time flew past in the quiet moments of our tea drinking, the bell ringing loudly, soon followed by the obnoxious chatter of passing students discussing the latest gossip in their classes. We were too far from the door to catch any of what they were saying, but Kyoya still seemed irritated that they were in the hallway at all.

"You should get some sleep," my fiancé said after the noise died down. "I can't have my star designer dozing off during club session, after all." I tried to protest, but he deftly reached across the coffee table to press his finger to my lips. "Just go to sleep," he commanded, taking my tea cup from my hands and walking off to the kitchen with it.

I waited until he returned anyway. The tea had me far more awake than I was before, and I was interested in learning more about Kyoya. We scarcely had any time to ourselves, and even when we did, he either wanted to rest in silence or study in silence, there was never anything in between.

"Is it hot in here?" he suddenly asked, standing up yet again to shed his jacket and roll up his sleeves. He also kicked off his shoes, but I guessed that was to stop the sofas from getting dirty. He paused before buttoning his sleeves above his elbows, electing to ditch the shirt entirely. I turned my head, internally scolding myself every time I unwillingly sneaked a peek at his torso – I needed to stop letting my curiosity get the better of me.

"As I've said many times before, you're probably going to see me completely naked at some point if this engagement works out, so going shirtless in front of you doesn't bother me." I was nearly tempted to laugh out loud. _It's not you that's bothered, you narcissist!_ He commented once again on my discomfort anyway, smoothly stating, "I was only teasing, dearest Isabella."

Kyoya relaxed on the sofa as he did before, stretching out on his back, except this time he removed his glasses. I thought he'd be going to sleep, so I opened up my bag and grabbed my homework. I knew the coffee table and dim lights would be useless for working, so I tip-toed over to the chair and table sets by the windows. At least I'd have the scenery this time.

Spreading my work out on the table, I thought I'd start with some designs for the Host Club costumes. They were all that took up my sketch pad since I'd been forced to join, but I didn't mind. Some of them got me the grades in my fashion designing class.

"What did K-Kyoya say the next theme was?" I asked myself, tapping on my lip with my pencil. I frowned for not remembering the whole list he gave me. _First is the Arabian Palace, then the Mystical Gods, then the Brave Knights? Oh, why can't I remember!_

"The one after Brave Knights is the Law Enforcement theme. Apparently, having demanding guys loyal to the rules is an ongoing sex appeal for the ladies," Kyoya said from behind me, making me jump. Him sneaking up on me all the time would be the death of me! "Of course, we won't mention to Tamaki that this one is all about the naughty fantasies of our clients."

I had to smirk at that. Many of the costume designs so far had all been based on sex appeal and – I shuddered at the thought – extensive research into fan fiction, but when I mentioned it to Kyoya, he just raised a finger to his lips and shushed me.

"I must admit that I brought you here for a reason other than tea," he said after a couple of minutes of watching me draw. I frowned, hearing an odd hint of reluctance in his voice, and set my pencil down.

"What's wrong?"

He sighed, leaning forward with his arms braced against the back of the chair. "Something Renge said this morning – I think she mentioned it last night too – has been bothering me." I tried to think back, but couldn't remember anything. "Tamaki's been going off about it for a while." I had a feeling I knew what he was talking about, but I said nothing.

"I'd like to try something with you. Just an experiment."

Something in what he said made me shiver with both fear and excitement. What was he suggesting? Knowing him, it could be anything dark and potentially dangerous. He could send me to a tropical water park with raging currents, a private police force, and uncaged alligators! "Sure," I said anyway. "What is it?"

His lips were now right beside my ear, and he released a small breath that very nearly electrocuted me before whispering, "I would very much like to kiss you."

All I could do was give a slight shake of my head in agreement.

My chair was spun to face him, and he pulled me up (before I could get too long of a glance at his naked torso – that surely would've scarred my poor, innocent mind forever!) to wrap his arm around my waist. I could feel his skin burning through my clothes when I was forcefully pressed up against his body, and I almost wished them away until I remembered that this was only an experiment. Yes, my first kiss, but only an experiment.

We looked into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity.

I found myself unable to breathe as his fingertips just barely stroked my cheek. They eventually settled at the back of my head, absently playing with some strands of hair. "You know," he whispered, bringing his lips ever so slightly closer to mine, "some say that a kiss can change everything."

"Do they now?"

Our eyes drifted shut as his nose brushed over mine. Finally, our lips joined together. This kiss was neither brief nor long, but I found myself drawing in a sharp breath through my nose at the softness; whether it was his lips or the gentle, hesitant touch to my own, I knew I wanted so much more. We pulled apart for only a moment, only to push forward again, both of us eager and willing for this to happen.

Feeling far less awkward, I raised my arms to drape them around his neck, pulling at some of the hairs on the nape of his neck while his fingers sprawled, instinctively closing once again around a fistful of hair that he gently tugged at in return. This time, the kiss was far more active, with our lips sloppily separating then touching again. All the more, it felt wonderful.

After a few seconds, the position felt awkward, so he released my hair and used both hands to lift me up onto the table. He resumed playing with my hair, keeping his other hand on my hip while I slid my hands down his shoulders and onto his chest. We both kept our distance, neither of us wanting to take it too far, but he still stood between my legs, and his chest was still naked (I tried not to think about how astoundedly smooth the skin was or how, when my fingertips brushed over his collarbone, he breathed in sharply).

We separated for the final time, both of us on the verge of gasping for air. I thanked the Heavens when he stayed still, leaning his forehead against mine with his eyes shut and cheeks flushed. I thought for sure that he'd move, thank me for the data, then leave, but he didn't.

"I apologise for my reaction," he said breathlessly.

I couldn't bring myself to look. "It's f-fine," I stammered.

"It'll be lunch time in an hour." He looked up and opened his eyes, his pupils blown wide. I hummed, pushing off the table and smoothing down my skirt when I hit the floor. I was glad I decided to wear some of my nicer clothes that day, though there were a couple of small holes in the shirt that needed fixing.

"We should c-clean up first." I gestured between the two of us. My hair was probably a mess like his, and he still had no shirt on. "Or we could g-go down like t-this. Tamak-ki will have a heart attack!"

He pressed his fingers to his lips and laughed behind them, deep chuckles passing through them and his shoulder shaking uncontrollably. "He would even if we tell him what happened." He gathered up his clothes and headed for what I assumed was the en suite. "By the way," he called, smirking. "You taste even sweeter than the chocolates."

* * *

I slowly opened my eyes, having fallen asleep at the table, my head cushioned by a stack of textbooks and papers. _Was that all a dream?_ I wondered, noting how I was still in the abandoned music room. Shooting around in my seat, I saw Kyoya still laying on the sofa in the darkened corner as though he'd never moved, but this time he wore a plain undershirt.

I touched my lips, tracing them ever so gently. _I can't believe I had such a vivid dream of_ Kyoya! _But was it only a dream?_ I didn't know what to think – I felt so conflicted, so… scared. If it happened, then I was so screwed! I promised myself not to fall in love with the Shadow King!

Taking a deep breath in, I quietly reassured myself, "This is fine. You haven't ruined any lives because it never happened." I gathered all my books together, shoving them in my satchel as I began to reprimand my subconscious. "Just don't go dreaming about s-snogging Kyoya senseless again!"

I had to admit, though, that it was good, but now that I was back in reality, I knew that it would only make my situation with Kyoya even worse. How could I face him knowing that that dream had completely ruined my perspective of him?! All I could think about was if Kyoya would react that way; shy and unwilling to hurt, but so full of fire and confidence. It was all too confusing! Looking over at the sleeping boy, I could see that he was uncomfortable. The muscles in his neck were strained, stretching and tilting at awkward angles, and his legs were far too long to fit on the sofa.

"K-Kyoya?" I quietly approached him. I poked his shoulder before jumping back, shielding myself with my satchel, knowing what he was like every time someone woke him up.

He sat up, emanating a dark aura. "What do you want?" he grumbled lowly, an evil glare shining in his dark eyes. I gulped. I knew I should've just left him alone to sleep, but in the time I worked up the courage to apologise, he'd already fallen back down with his eyes closed.

"I'll see you after school," was all I could stutter as I, without even thinking, lifted his head and stuffed one of the other sofa cushions under it. I sprinted out of the room, not wanting to feel his wrath from waking him up again, and made my way down the stairs to the first-floor cafeteria. It was by far the least crowded since the Hosts usually spent their lunch in the second and third-floor cafeterias (with all of their fans too).

Suddenly, as if my luck had run out, I opened the doors to find that nearly every table had been taken up. _How?!_ The answer came in a very flamboyant giggle that I recognised all too well, and I snapped my head to the side to see none other than Tamaki Suoh surrounded by his fangirls.

"Oh, it's Isabella-Senpai," I hear someone call. It turns out to be Haruhi, who rushed to my side enthusiastically. "Are you here to eat lunch? I brought my bento if you want to share!" I allowed her to drag me over to her table where she sat alone. I thought it was strange until she eagerly said, "Tamaki hadn't noticed that I'm here, thankfully. I usually just eat my lunch in my class – I already get enough stares in the club, and I don't need more just because of my homemade bento."

Haruhi opened up a bright pink box covered in stickers, commenting that her dad "misplaced" her green box that morning so that she'd "use the cuter one." I was too busy looking at her bento to pay attention. The sushi pieces were heart-shaped, and the fish was cut up into little cubes like in a little girl's lunch.

"What the heck, dad," she complained to herself. "I told you _yesterday_ to stop repacking my lunches!" She sighed, dropping her forehead onto the table as she did. It drew some unwanted attention, but I faked a big smile and waved them off awkwardly. When Haruhi finally pulled herself together, she separated her chopsticks with a SNAP and rubbed them together. I cringed when she stabbed the sticks in the offending bento and shovelled piece after piece into her mouth.

She paused, seeming to notice me again. "Here, have some."

"Thanks," I stuttered, grabbing a small cube of fish with my fingers. With uncertainty, I bit into the piece; it was surprisingly good. "Nice," I told her with a smile and a thumbs up, which I regretted instantly when a familiar shout came from across the room.

"ISABELLA-CHAN! YOU'RE TOO CUTE!"

That time, I was the one to hit my head on the table.

And I would only find myself doing it again for the millionth time when I got home that day.

" _Hey, Isabella-Chan. Let's play the 'Which One of us is Hikaru' game!"_ I groaned. Of course, I put too much faith in my gut and stupidly agreed to their game. Even Kyoya was sending me glares – a warning not worth ignoring, but I played along anyway.

" _Is it you?" I pointed to the twin on the left._ I groaned again, even louder this time, recalling the humiliation. Beside me, one of my dogs pawed at my leg, silently begging for cuddles like he always did. "Not now, Kaz," I said.

" _Nope! You got it wrong! Since you're the loser, you have to do whatever we say!"_ I couldn't believe I never thought about the stakes of the game. It was the _twins,_ for Christ's sake! They've had more hidden motives than Kyoya had notebooks, and there was a lot of them!

" _W-what do I – I… What is it?"_

" _You have to let the Host club stay at your house for the holidays!"_

* * *

HAHAHAHA! I totally lied to you! Chapter 5 is WAY too soon for the couple to get together, but I just HAD to give you some action!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – Day One: The Secrets of the Old Storeroom**

As the term drew to a close, every minute only added to my dread of having the Hosts spend the break with me – I mean, not only would they blatantly insult something every five seconds, but they'd be so melodramatic about all the work to do.

"So, this fancy Host club of yours is staying at our house because you did something stupid – that sound about right?" Corn, my only brother, said between grunts as he pulled at and tied the ropes. He stood bent over a massive log, covered from head to toe in splatters of mud, and he flicked his hair back to look at me dead in the eye.

I averted my gaze. "Way to sugar c-coat it, Corn." I crossed my arms over my chest, not caring that I was getting mud all over my brand-new dungarees. "And you sh-shouldn't spend your savings on c-clothes for me," I scolded even though my old pair were in dire need of a trash can.

This time when he looked at me, it was with furrowed brows and a bright red face. "I think you'll find _I'm_ the older brother, so I'll spend my money spoiling my little sister if I want to!" He waddled over in the mud, once even sinking down to his knees, just to smack the back of my head.

"When I get married, you won't have me around to spoil anymore," I commented, half teasing despite the solemn look on my face. I hated the idea of leaving Corn behind, but I knew Kyoya's father would only accept the best for an Ootori, and Kyoya himself would die if he had to live on a farm.

"Don't say things like that. I'll spoil you forever and ever, and Ootori can go to Hell because he can't keep you away from me!" His voice becomes a whisper as he pulled me into a hug. "We're family." I wrapped my arms around him in return, but I avoid burying my face into his chest – I'd rather not blind myself with mud. "Anyway," he suddenly said, pulling away. "We'd better get moving if we want dinner before nine!"

We trudged through the thick mud together, lugging logs attached to some rope that we slung over our shoulders. "What should we do about the Host club?" I asked after a few minutes. "T-they've never done farm work b-before."

"Like _hell_ will we let them get away with being lazy!" shouted Corn with a suspiciously evil grin on his face. "Those rich bastards can learn what it's like to lose their gumboots in some dirt!"

"Just b-because you did?" I teased, gesturing to his feet, which were now bare since he'd lost his boots and his socks in the mud. Adjusting my grip, I ignored his glower and focused instead on the zig-zag path I was walking (having to come back later for one pair of gumboots was enough, and I wasn't losing mine anytime soon!).

His glare became a grin when he said, "Imagine those pompous weirdos feeding the pigs! And they'd get eaten alive by the goats!" I smiled. Corn's mood changed so often, but his smile was always contagious – it almost made Kyoya crack a small one the first time he saw it.

"I want to see T-Tamaki with the chickens. He'd fit right in," I joked, recalling what he was like with Haruhi's dad when they first met. I'd been forced to go to her complex by Kyoya, who had me explain nearly every little thing that was different. Corn was so mad at Kyoya for dragging me out of my study time that he even screamed insults at him over the phone, and it only got worse when he found out that I failed my test the next day.

Corn was silent for a moment before he spoke again. "I'd love to teach that Kyoya Ootori his place as well." I didn't know if it was the fact that he was rich or because I failed that test, but Corn _loathed_ Kyoya. He even begged me to decline the arrangement, even said he'd rather me marry his bully from high school (who's in prison).

I sighed. "Corn, no fighting with K-Kyoya this time, okay? He always m-makes both of us look stupid." I stop, making a point to give him a look that meant business. "Promise me."

"Fine," he replied, and I knew he took my demand to heart. "But if he hurts you _once_ this weekend, he'd better hope he can find a tree tall enough to hide in." I dropped my log on the ground to rush forward and envelope him in a hug. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's just get these logs up before it gets dark because I am _not_ feeding the animals when I can't see them."

Our trek up the hill continued, and by the time we were done the sun was beginning to set on the horizon. Corn was drowning in his sweat, desperately fanning himself with his hands, while I collapsed against my log, breathing like an exhausted dog – that fixed his attention on me.

"Alright, you've done enough for today," he said as he bent down in front of me, silently ordering that I get on his back. I did, too tired to think about walking up even the porch steps. "You need a shower and a lot of sleep, okay? Especially if we're going to clean tomorrow _and_ chop up the firewood."

He carried me inside, just in time for the sudden rainfall outside. "Ah, shit!" said Corn, speeding up his pace to sprint upstairs and practically dump me on the bathroom floor. "I'll be back soon!" I could only smile, knowing he'd be outside for another few hours despite his promise. _He always works too hard,_ I thought to myself.

"Looks like I'm having a bath tonight," I sang, leaning over the edge of the tub to twist the tap handles. The water began pouring out, hot and cold, and I slowly stripped myself of my clothes. My dungarees ended up in a heap beneath my dirty undershirt, socks, bra, and underwear – I'd throw them in the laundry basket later – while I was finally lowering myself into the tub. The water was warm and bubbly, a nice feeling I hadn't had in a while.

After a while, the door opened to reveal Corn with his eyes covered. In his hand was my phone, dinging over and over again. "Your phone's blowing up and it's driving me crazy. Do something about it, Chips."

When he left, I discovered that the spam texts were from none other than the Hosts, who'd evidently added me to a group chat. From what I could see, Tamaki was part of an emoticon war with the twins, and Honey wouldn't stop sending photos of his cakes.

 **Me:** _The hell is wrong with you guys?!_ That was the first and only text I sent, instantly sending everyone else into silence. It was almost a little bit concerning until a message came from 'DaddySuoh' (I wasn't surprised by the username).

 **DaddySuoh:** _ISABELLA!_

 **HikaHita:** _Hi, Isabella!_

 **KaoHita:** _Hi, Isabella!_ I frowned when the messages sent at the same time. It made me wonder if the twins were in the same room or if they had a psychic connection – their bright orange hair made the latter option a little more believable.

When they began texting back and forth again, I stepped out of the bath and drained the water, watching all the bubbles disappear with a pout, my mood ruined because of those boys. _Why do they have to be so clingy all the time?_ I thought to myself as I dressed. _They give me a bloody headache!_

My eyes met my reflection's in the mirror on the wall, and I couldn't help but crinkle my nose distastefully before I moved on to leave the bathroom, leaving the mess on the floor for Corn to clean up in the morning. It was dark in the hall – the lights were left off – so I used the light from my phone to see two feet in front of me. Suddenly, a flash of lightning outside lit up the entire hallway through the window, but it didn't bother me until the thunder sounded only a second later.

"That's too close," I murmured, looking outside to where Corn was fiddling with tarpaulin sheets in the dim light. I couldn't help the uneasy feeling that settled in my stomach, but I did my best to ignore it as I headed downstairs, scrolling through the hundreds of texts the Hosts managed to send.

 **CuteCake:** _Hey, Isabella-Chan, why is your username 'Chips'?_ I smiled. The childhood nickname somehow stuck around, and I always thought it was cool, but I wasn't about to tell them that, especially not when the twins would find a way to use it against me.

The door burst open just as I slipped into the kitchen to start dinner and in stepped a soaking wet Corn, dripping mud and water all over the welcome mat. "No way!" I shouted. "You t-take those clothes off r-right now because you are _not_ g-g-getting mud all over our carpet again!" He sighed and started stripping, making a show of it just to irk me even though we both knew that cleaning mud off the carpet was the worst job in the world.

"Happy?" he called. He sat down on one the bar stools, staring at me from the other side of the hand-through in the wall with a stupid, lop-sided grin on his face. His hair dripped water onto the counter when he leaned over it.

I jabbed at his naked torso with a half-chopped carrot. "Very. Nice boxers," I stuttered between laughs when I spotted his bright pink boxer shorts.

"Yeah, yeah, get back to your damn carrots," he grumbled, picking up a piece to eat. "I hope those Hosts can deal with homegrown food. I can just imagine the tears when they find out that we breed and raise our steak before we eat it." We shared a bout of laughter over that, louder than the horrid storm outside that rattled the fences.

It was nice. And I hoped it would stay that way for just a little while longer.

 _ **OHSHC – OHSHC – OHSHC**_

The last thing I ever wanted to see was a collection of posh boys standing in front of my house, but the harsh reality was that they'd be _living_ with me for the next nineteen days – the mere thought of it made me want to cry.

"Do they have to spend Christmas with us?" Corn whispered beside me, not even trying to hide how upset he was. "I mean, don't they have their own families to annoy?" I couldn't even think of an answer for him; I was too busy watching the twins, whose critical eyes were glaring at everything from the house to the grass poking up through the gaps in the porch steps.

They said together, "What a dump!"

Well, I expected a lot worse.

"I'm going inside before I tear their heads off." Everyone stared as Corn stormed off. He hated it when people insulted the place.

I felt someone tugging on my skirt (the only one I owned), and I looked down to see a beaming Mitsukuni. "You live on a farm?!" he exclaimed childishly. I fought the temptation to roll my eyes at him. "Takashi and I always wanted to know what it's like living on a farm!"

It was then that Tamaki decided to speak up, startling poor Haruhi when his dramatic movements ended up hitting her in the face. "Who is the boy that dares to have hair redder than the twins'?!" _What a dumbass,_ I thought to myself, but when I opened my mouth to answer him, Kyoya cut in, holding what looked suspiciously like a file.

"Kristopher Ayakushi, Isabella's older brother. He studied in the United Kingdom, but he dropped out when he was sixteen to help pay for Isabella's textbooks and uniform." He said this all in a mechanical tone – Kyoya hated my brother maybe even more than Corn hated him, which was saying something since Corn liked to list off all the ways he'd murder Kyoya nearly every day.

"It's all just basic information after that. Blood type: A, Ethnicity: Eurasian, Nationality: English-Japanese." He finished his rambling by snapping his file shut and hiding it between the pages of his notebook. "Isabella." He suddenly turned to me, and my back instinctively straightened a little. "Won't you show us inside?"

I nodded and picked up the groceries I'd set down when they arrived. As their first chore, they could carry all their bags themselves. I smirked as I realised all the power I'd have over them, especially Kyoya, but my joy soon fell short when I realised that they'd be looking at the inside of my house.

And I hadn't cleaned it yet. _Oh, Jesus Christ, save me._

There was a hand on my shoulder. "Hey, I'm sure it'll look amazing inside," said Haruhi with a soft smile. I nodded at her and lifted my feet, my gumboots falling off to reveal my dirty, holey socks. At my gesture, she kindly slid open the door and pushed the closed curtain aside, exposing the lounge area to the Hosts.

"Wow!" I shared a smile with Haruhi. The house was far bigger compared to her apartment, but it was still reasonably cramped with the furniture and small piles of clutter everywhere. "You have a TV!"

"Thanks to my awesome skills of saving money to spoil my sister!" Corn appeared from around the corner – probably the kitchen – and wasted no time in ruffling my hair before taking the bags of groceries from me. He then turned to the boys and curtly said, "Don't just stand around, come inside. Also, if you don't take your shoes off, your heads will end up mounted on the wall."

Tamaki was the first to step on the carpet, enthusiastically commenting on every little detail to my lounge that he saw. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone put a couch right next to a door, but to each their own, I guess!"

"You're s-staying here with Corn," I said when I lead the boys to their room upstairs. It was one of the largest in the house, but it could only fit two portable cots on either side of the California King bed already in there. "T-Takashi, can you share the bed with Corn? You're b-both so tall…"

The black-haired monster of a boy dumped his bag on the bed. "That's fine, thanks."

"Ooh, yay! I get to share my bed with the hottie of the group!" Everyone's jaws dropped aside from my own. I should've known that Corn would get excited. "What? He's a Host – you can't deny that he's gorgeous – and you guys cater to _everyone,_ right?"

"That's enough joking around, Kristopher," I said, kicking him out of the room with a warning glare. Hopefully, he'd leave poor Takashi alone for the rest of the break. "Sorry, Takashi-Senpai." He was too stunned to reply, just stared with a slight blush at the place where Corn stood.

I didn't even know what to think of that.

"Tamaki-Senpai, Mitsukuni-Senpai, I'm sure you c-can decide over the cots yourselves." I slammed the door shut before they could reply and beckoned for the twins to follow me back downstairs. We passed the entrance to the kitchen, and they craned their necks to get a good look at Corn cooking, of course, but they continued to follow me down a hallway, complaining the entire time about how cramped it was.

Haruhi, who'd had enough of them, sharply commented, "Unless you want to sleep in a cupboard, I suggest you stop insulting Isabella's house, you pompous brats." When they ceased talking immediately after that, I made a mental note to buy Haruhi some chocolates.

"You two will stay here with Kyoya, okay?"

"Aww, and we were hoping that _you_ would sleep with Kyoya, isn't that right, Kaoru?" I nearly fainted right then and there. What the hell were they thinking?!

"Yeah! Hikaru and I wanted some epic action to tease you over!" They both laughed at my fuming face, and I was sure they could see the steam shooting out of my ears. "Don't be like that!" Kaoru added, throwing his arm around my shoulder. "After all, you and Kyoya are the star-crossed lovers of the story."

I pushed them off me, hearing Haruhi mutter, "I didn't think Renge was a part of this vacation," as I did. And I had to agree with her. Kaoru and Hikaru had suddenly become just like Renge, and I was almost expecting them to pull out a couple of voodoo dolls of Kyoya and me… God only knows what they'd try to make us do.

"Speaking of Kyoya, where is he?" I looked up, realising that Kyoya had disappeared at some point. I turned tail and bolted out of the bedroom, praying that Kyoya wasn't snooping around in anyone's underwear drawer or something. Knowing him, he would've wanted to know Corn's underwear size at some point. Behind me, I heard the twins ditching their bags and following with haste, but I barely paid them any attention as I rushed back down the hall and upstairs to the storeroom – I somehow _knew_ that he was in there when I saw his discarded notebook on one of the kitchen counters.

The door? Closed. I hesitated for a moment, scared to go in there after so many years of avoiding that door, but at the sound of someone shuffling around in there, I forced myself to twist the knob. There was a small, sharp intake of breath – it was me – at the sight of the room, just as we left it.

In the corner next to a small window, a twin single bed, a layer of dust covering the astronaut bedsheets and the pillow, which still had an untouched dent in it from the last head that lay there. Labelled boxes filled with old possessions towered over the bed and the grand piano that was too old to sell. My trembling hand rattled the doorknob, and I had to muster up all of my remaining courage to take a minuscule step over the threshold.

As the wooden floor creaked under my foot, I heard Corn call me from downstairs. "Chips? I heard running… what's going on?" I didn't answer him, of course. I was captivated by that suffocating loneliness that settled over the room, and my eyes wouldn't look away from the bed.

Once upon a time, the one who used to sleep there haunted my dreams and nightmares.

Haruhi gently slid past during my silence, her wandering eyes catching Kyoya standing on the other side of the room with a book in his hands. "Corn, Chips, and Dip: The Great Adventure Book," she read, effectively earning my attention. "The little boy in this book looks just like Kristopher," she whispered. "This is Corn, the eldest of the three siblings. He loves to feed the piglets, and he could play with the puppies _all_ day long, but nothing holds his heart more than his younger siblings, Chips and Dip."

The handmade book almost made me smile. A long time ago, my mother used to write children's books, and her favourite characters to write about were Corn, Chips, and Dip. We used to love her stories. She'd read them to us every night when she tucked us in.

"Wait, I know 'Corn, Chips, and Dip!' My dad bought every issue because he thought the art was cute!" She stole the book out of Kyoya's hands, being careful not to damage the fragile binding. "What's the original issue doing in Isabella-Senpai's wardrobe, though?"

I hadn't noticed that I'd tip-toed over to her until I saw the pages of the book. The colour inside was preserved somewhat, but the cover was fading and falling apart – that tends to happen when you stuff it inside a chest to rot for a decade. She offered me the book, a guilty look in her eyes for prying into my privacy, and I took it from her, sparing a single glance at cover as I closed it. There they all stood, staring up at me with huge grins, and I practically threw it back into the chest.

"P-Please, don't come in here again," I begged, feeling the tears brimming in my eyes. They all agreed, the twins being quick to complain about it as I lead everyone out of the room. The one thing I didn't notice, however, was Hikaru snatching a photo off the wall, but I'd later come to find that everyone else saw, and they all wanted to know what he'd just taken.

Especially Kyoya.

 **A/N - Two chapters in one month! Wow! And you get to see where Isabella lives. Not only that, but you finally get some info on her past! Sorry, folks, but it's ALL downhill from here! Can't have a good fanfiction without some juicy drama and feels in the mix ;)**


End file.
